Remembering

 

La Danza Morte

by

Robert F. Clifton

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

La Danza Morte

Copyright August 20, 2015 by Robert F. Clifton

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be

reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any

means without written permission from the author.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dedicated To The Memory

of

Elva Aspenberg

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Robert Wallace sat in his wheelchair thinking, remembering, the crime, the suspects and the investigation of the murder of Gabriela Bunsdorff. It had happened years ago when the ballet, “Sleeping Beauty” performed by the Baranovsky Ballet Company came to Nautilus Beach, New Jersey. Wallace had been a young homicide investigator for the local police department at the time of the killing. The death of Gabriela Bunsdorff, ballerina, had an unfavorable impact on the tourist trade that was sought after by the merchants of the famous seaside resort. The city fathers wanted the crime solved in a hurry and he was assigned to the case.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Table Of Contents

 

Chapter One.....Remembering

Chapter Two.....Doctor Edwards

Chapter Three..Anthony Rogers

Chapter Four....Natasha Dubcek

Chapter Five.....Margaret Helms

Chapter Six.......Harry Brummel

Chapter Seven...Viktor Baranovsky

Chapter Eight....Lester Cummings

Chapter Nine.....Chicago

Chapter Ten.......Pittsburgh

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter One

Remembering

 

Robert Wallace turned the wheels of his wheelchair with his hands and slowly made his way to the kitchen table. Once there he looked at the tuna salad that his wife Mary Wagner Wallace had prepared for him. He wasn't in the mood for tuna in any way shape or form. However, as an aging diabetic and the disease taking away his walking ability and balance he knew that Mary was watching his diet, even if he wasn't. As he unfolded the cloth napkin he heard her talking to someone on the telephone. When he had met and married her the first time she had been a top reporter for the Nautilus Beach Press. What was strange about that union was the fact that as a police officer, Robert Wallace both distrusted and disliked media reporters and now retired, still did.

As he took small samples of the salad on his fork followed by sips of chemical infused sweetened ice tea he heard

Mary hang up the telephone then heard her footsteps as she approached the kitchen. “You're not eating”, she said sternly when she entered and looked at his plate.

“First of all, I'm tired of fish. If I have to eat it, which I don't. If I did want to eat it then it should be on bread, not piled on top of a lettuce leaf and dumped on a paper plate!”, he answered.

“And you know that too much bread is bad for your diet. You're only allowed so many carbohydrates a day”, Mary responded.

“Say's who?”

“Your doctor, your dietitian and me!”

“Bullshit!”

“And you're full of it! Now, are you going to eat the tuna or would you like me to fry you some eggs?”

“No, I'll eat the damn fish. Who was on the telephone?”

“Ed Kominsky”.

“Who the hell is he?”

“The new editor of the local paper”.

“What did he want?”

“Not you evidently. What he wants is for me to freelance a report and article on the ballet coming to town next month. Naturally I get paid and I also get two tickets. One for you and one for me.”

“Like hell. I can't imagine sitting and watching people jumping up and down in long underwear to music.”

“The girls wear tights and tutu's, not long underwear idiot”.

“And the, what are they called, boys? All the boys do is lift the girls. Besides, they pad the crotch of their pants. Some of them should be arrested for indecency”.

“You are impossible. Finish your lunch”.

“Yeah, yeah. So? Are you taking the job?”, he asked.

“I'd like to. Still, there's the problem of you being alone for a length of time,” Mary answered.

“Don't worry about me.'

“You seem to forget that you've had two hypoglycemic attacks this month alone. Both times I had to call for the ambulance and the EMT's. Both times you were out of it. Once your blood reading was forty eight and you tell me not to worry”.

“Hey, I divorced you once because of my age. Now, since we've remarried you're stuck taking care of an old fart. I warned you. You asked for it. Sorry that I'm such a pain in the ass”.

“You're not a pain in the ass and if you don't want to become one listen to your doctor and those taking care of you”.

“Yeah, yeah”.

“Any way. We could use the money and the pay for the article is generous.”

“Then take the job”.

“It would be nice if you went to the ballet with me”.

“I've had my share of ballet's.'

“Really? How?”

“This isn't the first time a production like this is coming to town. Back in the seventies the ballet, “Sleeping Beauty” came to Nautilus Beach, appearing at the convention center. Unfortunately, it was the first and last ballet here until the one you now want me to attend.”

“Wasn't it a success?”, asked Mary.

“I don't think so. The ballerina dropped dead during the show. Evidence revealed that some one had killed her and the

thought was that the producer had lost his shirt”.

“Why?”

“Why, what?”

“Why did the producer loose his shirt?”

“Because typically, the residents of this city are too damn cheap to support anything except bookmakers, hookers and saloons. Any art form is doomed before it even starts in Nautilus Beach. In the case of the ballet the house was only half full and most of the audience was made up of out of townies.”

“Well this ballet is sold out,” said Mary.

“Really? Which ballet is it?”

“Giselle.”

“Never heard of it.”

“It's about a peasant girl named Giselle who dies of a broken heart after discovering that her lover is betrothed to another. The Wills, a supernatural group of women who dance men to death summon Giselle from the grave. They target her lover for death, but Giselle's great love frees him from their grasp,” Mary explained.

“Sounds like a lot of horseshit to me.” Wallace replied.

“You're impossible. Why do I even try? I'm going to the

A&P. Is there anything you want or need?” she asked.

“Anything I'd want you wouldn't get because it would be bad for me, according to you.”

“Oh. You mean like a lemon pie, a bag of doughnuts or a gallon of ice cream?”

“I survived many years of coffee and lemon doughnuts”.

“And, your blood glucose reading was three and four hundred”.

“I thought you were going to the store”.

“I am. Good by.”

After Mary left Wallace placed the paper plate with the half eaten tuna salad on his lap then maneuvered the wheel chair to where the trash can stood in the corner. With the toe of one foot he pressed down, opened the lid and tossed the rest of his unfinished lunch into the receptacle. He turned the wheelchair and moved it into the spare bedroom that had become the combination den, office and reading and writing room. Here

Mary Wallace practiced her craft as a free lance writer. In the same room Robert Wallace sat and read or in his reclining chair

and with earphones and closed eyes listened to his music while Mary worked. Occasionally he helped her by doing research of a particular subject in which she was interested, most times he sat deep in thought remembering his days on the Nautilus Beach Police Department. Reminiscing brought back the faces of old friends, like Doc Edwards, Tom McKenna, Frank Stiles, all gone now. Then, there were the memories of the women in his life. Some were one night stands. Some were lovers. A few were treacherous. A couple were killers. Each one had taught him something about life and relationships. Then, there was Mary, a woman who married him and at his request agreed to divorce him because he was many years older then her, only later to take him in and nurse him when he returned from Australia. A woman that through the years maintained her love for him, accepted his likes and dislikes and his definition of life as he saw it. She didn't necessarily agree with it, but she put up with it.

Now, he moved slowly from the wheelchair and slowly lowered himself into the dark, brown leather recliner. Leaning back he closed his eyes and thought again about the murder case involving the ballerina. He had called the case, “La Danza Morte'.” “Death Dance.”

As he recalled it, he remembered that he had been off duty and at home in his condo when at about or around nine o'clock on a Sunday morning a week after Labor Day he received a telephone call from Sergeant John Ackerman. Ackerman informed him that the ballerina dancing Saturday night in the convention center had either fainted or collapsed while performing. She had been rushed to the hospital where she was pronounced dead in the emergency room. At the hospital tests had been done and it was determined that the ballerina one, Gabriela Bunsdorff had high readings of the drug, dioxin in her system. This was enough probable cause for the detective originally assigned to investigate to consider the woman's death as a possible homicide. This brought the Major Crime Squad into the case, a unit that Detective Robert Wallace had just recently been assigned. “Where do you want me Sergeant?,” he had asked.

“Meet me at the Convention Center, back stage,” said Ackerman.

Wallace remembered the appearance of the Convention

Center hallway. The walls had been painted with two colors of paint. The lower half of the walls had been painted gray, the upper half, sea foam green. The sounds his footsteps made on the concrete floor came back to him and in his reverie he saw himself walking the length of that hallway once again. He had opened a door and found that it was the entrance to the rear of the stage. He entered and seeing Sergeant Ackerman reported for duty.

“Ah, Wallace, let me fill you in. You already know what I told you on the telephone. As you know the victim in this case had an abundant amount of dioxin in her system. That doesn't necessarily mean that she was murdered. In fact, it might have been an accidental overdose. Nonetheless we're going to find out one way or another just what happened. As for you, I want you to examine the dressing room. See what you can find. Look for anything out of place or out of order. Take notes. If you find something call for me. Right now I have to talk to the stage manager. Got it?”

“Yes sir,” Wallace answered.

When he entered the dressing room the first thing that had caught his attention was the mixed aroma of face powder and perfume. The result of the open door allowed him to see the makeup table with the outdated, blond wood dressing mirror with its eight, clear glass electric bulbs. Wallace turned, looked and saw the wall switch and he flipped it with a finger allowing the single bulb in the ceiling fixture to illuminate. Now, in the lighted room he stood still, looking, searching, observing. Near the far corner of the room stood a tall dressing screen. Next to that was a clothes rack. A pair of blue jeans, along with a gray sweatshirt hung next to a blue, windbreaker. All had been neatly placed on wooden hangers. A pair of blue, women's, athletic shoes had been placed on the bottom of the rack. Next to the shoes was a black, leather overnight bag. He walked to the clothes rack, bent over and picked up the bag. He then took a seat in one of the three chairs in the room and opened the bag and looked inside. The bag contained a change of underwear, panties, a bra and a pair of peds. From the chair Wallace continued visually searching the room. He noticed a woman's, black, leather, pocketbook on a small table. Next to the pocketbook was a yellow, frosted, drinking glass.

Wallace got up, walked to the table and picked up the pocketbook then took a seat at the dressing table. After opening the pocketbook he removed a blue, imitation leather wallet. He set it aside then looked inside the handbag. He found a set of keys and from the look of them they were both house and automobile keys. One key had the General Motors letters. Next, he found a small address book. He thumbed through it, then set it aside. He removed a powder compact, nail file, tissues, lipstick,

And seeing a clear plastic container containing yellow pills he held the container with a pair of large tweezers he found on the dressing table. Then, moving it into the light read, “Gabriela Bunsdorff, Lanoxin, 0.25 mg. 40 tabs. Doctor Marvin Shecter.” Once again he set the item aside. Wallace reached into the inside pocket of his blazer and removed a small notebook. After glancing at his wristwatch he wrote the time, the date and then what he had found.

Picking up the wallet he removed several bills of different value. He counted the money and wrote the sum of one hundred and sixteen dollars in his notes. He then sat and recorded the denomination and serial number of each bill. He then placed the cash back in the billfold. Next, he removed a New York drivers license issued to Gabriela Bunsdorff, two credit cards and a library card. At the sound of the dressing room door opening Wallace turned to see Sergeant Ackerman entering the room. “Find anything of interest?” asked the Sergeant.

“Possibly”, Wallace answered holding up the plastic container with the pills with the large tweezers.

“Interesting. Lanoxin, a type of dioxin, the same thing found in the victims body at the hospital. I see she had a prescription,” said Ackerman.

“The container label reads forty tablets. I counted fifteen still inside of it.” Wallace replied.

“Right now we don't know the actual amount of the drug that they found in her body,” offered Ackerman.

“Or, if it came from her supply or that of someone else”, Wallace responded.

“True. Make it a point to meet with the Medical Examiner the first thing tomorrow morning,” Ackerman ordered.

“Yes sir”.

“Anything else?”

“Just clothing, pocketbook and wallet, one hundred and sixteen dollars in cash, keys, makeup compact. That's about it”.

“O.K. Unless you can think of anything else you can secure. Just remember to be at the hospital tomorrow,” said Ackerman looking at Wallace who seemed to be paying attention to something else.

“Hmm? Oh. Yes sir. Excuse me but I just noticed something”, said Wallace as he walked over to the small table that held the frosted drinking glass. He stopped in front of the table then bent down and picked up a small, clear glass shard.

“What's that,” asked the Sergeant.

“A piece of glass. It's clear and thin like the type that would make up a drinking glass. Strange. Because sitting right here on this table is a frosted glass,” said Wallace.

“What's so strange? Anyone can have and use more than one glass”, said Ackerman.

“I agree. However, the difference between clear and frosted is the fact that any residue from a dissolved yellow pill such as Lanoxin would be difficult to see if someone handed the frosted glass to you unless you looked directly down at what was in the glass. At the same time if the clear drinking glass is suddenly broken it gives someone the opportunity and excuse to offer the frosted glass in its place”.

“Hmm. Good thinking Wallace. Take the glass and pill container as evidence and have C.S.I. test the glass for dioxin or any other drug they might find”.

“How about the shard of glass?”, asked Wallace.

“Oh yes, that also.”

Both men turned at the sound of someone in the doorway. They saw two members of the Crime Scene Investigator unit, one who asked. “Do you need us for anything Sarge?”

“Yes, see Wallace here. He has some evidence, also cash found in the victims wallet. He'll tell you what we want you to look for”.

After Sergeant Ackerman and the C.S.I. technicians left Wallace sat silently as he continued to visually examine the room. He saw a white sheet of paper that had been torn in half and tossed into the wastebasket. He reached into the basket and removed the two pieces. Placing the torn papers together he saw that it had been a playbill relating facts about the ballet and in particular information about the orchestra, cast and of course the ballerina. He also noticed the mention of a Natasha Dubcek, Gabriela Bunsdorff's understudy. Although there was a large photo of the star ballerina there was a thumbnail image of the understudy. Wallace examined the picture seeing a dark haired

young girl with dark eyes, eyes that displayed sorrow. “Why does she look so sad? Is it because of a part she's dancing to or is it because she's unhappy abut something?,he asked himself mentally. Wallace folded the playbill and placed it in his coat pocket. After taking one more look around at the room in case he might have overlooked something he walked towards the dressing room door and switched off the light.

Now, as he sat years later in his home he recalled the long walk down the convention center hallway and the sounds of his footsteps as he headed for the exit and his unmarked radio car parked below in the basement garage.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Two

Doctor Edwards

 

His own snoring work him up from a deep sleep. Reaching down with his right hand Wallace took hold of the hard wood leaver that raised and lowered his recliner. He pushed it and sat upright. “Damn! Fell asleep again. How long was I out of it?,”

he asked himself, mentally. Looking at his wristwatch he noticed that he had slept for about a half an hour. He heard a noise in the kitchen, then realized that it was Mary putting away the groceries she had bought. “Was the store crowded?”, He asked in a loud voice.

“Well, look who's up and awake. And, guess who won't be able to get to sleep tonight. No, the store wasn't crowded. How do you feel?”

“Shitty, but that's nothing new.”

“Well, what were you doing while I was shopping?'

“Thinking about that ballet thing.”

“Oh, are you reconsidering going with me after all?”

“Hell no. I was thinking back to the ballerina murder case I investigated years ago.”

“What's so special about that case?”

“Well for one thing it was the first time I met Doc Edwards.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Sergeant Ackerman ordered me to be at the hospital morgue to witness the autopsy of Gabriela Brunsdorff. It was my first autopsy that I attended. Unfortunately it wasn't to be my last. Anyway, as I recall, I took the elevator from the street level of the hospital to the basement where the morgue and pathology department was located. There were two large. Swinging doors. Each one had a round, glass window and as I approached them I could see movement behind them. So, I pushed one and walked into the large room. I remember Doc looking at me and saying, “Who the hell are you?”

“Detective Wallace, Nautilus Beach Police,” I answered.

“Yeah? So?”

“I'm suppose to witness an autopsy. The victim is one, Gabriela Brunsdorff. She was the ballerina that was pronounced dead here in the emergency room last night.”

“That's her over there under the white sheet,” said the pathologist pointing to an examination table with what appeared to hold a cloth covered corpse.

“I'm sorry. I told you my name. Now just who are you?, asked Wallace.

“I'm the sorry son of a bitch that has to cut her open. Who the hell did you think I was, the janitor?”

“Hey1 don't get your ass in an uproar. I need your name for my report”.

“Oh. In that case the name is Edwards. Manfred Edwards. Make that Doctor Manfred Edwards, Pathologist.”

“Got it. Now, can I look at the body?”

“You can not only look at the body, but you can watch me

perform the autopsy. How many of these have you attended Officer, Officer?”

“Wallace. Detective Wallace.”

“Oh yeah. How many autopsy's have you attended Detective Wallace?”

“This is my first one.”

“Really. Well I hope you have a strong stomach.”

“I think I'll make it.”

“So, you're a tough guy. We'll see. Tell me Officer, just how much do you know about the cause of death of this woman?”

“Not too much. I've been informed that who ever treated her in the emergency room last night reported to us that there had been what appeared to be an overdose of the drug, dioxin.

“Correct. Now, for your report the amount of Lanoxin found in her system was 500mg.”

“I found a vial containing Lanoxin tablets. The label read 0.20 mg.”.

“Then, it appears that the emergency room physicians were correct. It seems that there was an overdose.”

“Right, but was that what killed her?”

“Nothing like getting right to the point. To answer your question, probably. To be certain, I want to examine her heart.”

“Why? What will that tell you?”

“It will tell me if she died as a result of the drug in her body or from either heart disease or a blood clot.”

“How would the drug kill her?”

“Dioxin, or in this case Lanoxin is used to treat atrial fibrillation or an abnormal heart rhythm,” said the doctor as he removed the sheet covering the body. “Now, look her her body. Study it. What do you see?”, asked Edwards.

“A small, nude, dead woman.”

“Damn it! Look at her legs. Notice the muscles in her thighs and calves. Ballerina's and ballet dancers are like athletes. This woman had leg muscles like a wide receiver or tight end in football. With 500 mg of Lanoxin in her system and exerting herself in the dance, her death could have resulted. However, right now, that's my guess. Now, I'll open her up and take a look.”.

“Wallace stood and watched Doctor Edwards using a scalpel as he made and incision on the woman's chest. Suddenly a smell coming from the open cavity of the cadaver made Wallace turn away and gag.

“That's the smell of body acid an after death result. Do you smoke?”, asked Edwards.

“Yes.”

“Well if you have to view another autopsy buy a cigar, light it and puff on it. That way it helps over come what I call the stench of death. O.K. let's see what we have here,”said the pathologist as he lifted and removed the ballerina's heart.

“How does it look?”, asked Wallace.

“I keep forgetting that this is your first autopsy. What happens here is that while I work I speak into a microphone that records every aspect of my examination. What I'm trying to say Officer is speak only when spoken to otherwise the girl that has to type the transcript gets confused. Understand?”

“Yes, sorry.”

“Before I start I'll answer your question. There is no sign of heart disease, fatty tissue or blood clots. The heart is enlarged as is the muscular wall and specifically the left ventricle, which pumps oxygenated blood to the aorta. However, I still have to open and check the condition of the heart valves and ventricles. An enlarged heart is to be expected for someone like the victim. She practices and exercises several times a day, several times a week. The result is what is know as Athletic heart syndrome. What is different, but not rare by any means is that in addition to the enlarged heart caused by the syndrome she had atrial fibrillation at the same time, which again is not rare, but the patient should be careful. Right now I have to put the heart on the scale and weigh it.”

“Tell me, would the condition of Athletic heart syndrome and ingesting 500 mg. Of Lanoxin cause her death?”, asked Wallace.

Doctor Edwards turned his head and looked at the large, face, clock on the wall. “Tell you what. Allow me to do what I have to do and save your questions. I'll answer them over lunch. My treat.”

Later, the two men sat at a table in the hospital cafeteria. Doctor Edwards sat stirring his ice tea after depositing sugar from a packet. Wallace took sips from his cup of coffee. Both men had taken ham and cheese sandwiches from those that had been wrapped and placed for sale as they moved along the serving line. “Now, as I recall you wanted to know if 500 mg. of Lanoxin along with the fact that she had Athletic heart syndrome could be the cause of the victims death. The answer is yes. However, allow me to explain. Athletic heart is actually the result of dynamic physical activity. When I say dynamic, I'm talking about someone doing aerobic training or exercise more than five hours a week. You see, during those exercises or in the victims case, practice, the heart has to pump more blood through the body to counteract the oxygen being depleted in the muscles of the body. Overtime, the body will increase the size of the left ventricle and the muscle mass and thickness of the heart. What happens next is that with a larger, left ventricle the heart rate can decrease and still maintain a level of cardiac output or beats, necessary for the body. Therefore, it is very common for athletes with Athletic heart syndrome to have lower heart rates then non-athletes.”, said Doctor Edwards as he reached for his drink.

“Alright, I understand what you have just told me, but what I really want to know is, once again the effect the Lanoxin had on her. Did it kill her?, “asked Wallace.

Edwards looked at the young detective as he chewed on a bite of sandwich. He swallowed and said, “I just told you that the increased size of the ventricle will cause a decrease in the heart rate. Lanoxin is used to adjust the rhythm of the heart rate, or to slow it. Your ballerina had been prescribed 0.20 mg. Now, let's assume she took her medication yesterday. Then, add 500mg. more. Then combine that with physical exertion as she danced, leaped and twirled. The result? Heart failure. Her heart slowed, then stopped. Does that answer your question?”

“Yes, it sure does”, Wallace answered.

“Good, now what are you going to do next?”, asked Doctor Edwards

“Finish my lunch and then go back to headquarters and write my reports.”

“Are you from around here?” asked Edwards

“Yep, born and raised here. Why?”

“Do you like to fish?”

“If you're a boy growing up in Nautilus Beach there are some things that are certain. First, you learn how to body surf in the ocean. Then, you learn how to swim in the back bay. Finally, you know how to fish and where.”

“I love to fish. I'm originally from Wilmington. Delaware, so did most of my fishing in Delaware Bay. Since I've been here I've had to use the charter boats in order to fish. Although it's fishing, it's not the kind I like to do. I enjoy being either alone or with one or two people, instead of a boat load of beer drinkers and loud mouths.”

“Have you tried fishing off of the rock jetty's?”, asked Wallace.

“No. Is the fishing good there?”

“Catching fish is guaranteed, but it all depends if you want to keep them.”

“Why, what kind are they?'

“We call them, slippery bass. They're also called, black bass, and Tautog. They hit hard and give you a nice fight. The problem is if you want to eat them they're supposed to be skinned and most people consider that to be a pain in the ass. So, we toss them back. Once in a while you might get a nice sea bass.”

“What do you use for bait?”, asked Edwards.

“Sand fleas.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Tell you what, if you're interested give me a call some day and I'll go with you.”

“Do I need any special tackle?”

“It's best to use a bamboo cane pole. You can pick one up at any hardware store here in town. I use old spark plugs for sinkers. That way if you get snagged and you will, you haven't lost anything. I have enough so I'll give you some to use.”

“Sounds good. What's your first name again?”

“Robert, Robert Wallace.”

Later, back at headquarters Robert Wallace sat typing reports pertaining to his part so far in the investigation. He started with what he had found in the ballerina's dressing room, mentioning the broken glass shard, the frosted glass and the container of Lanoxin tablets. He stopped typing, then got up from the chair and went to where his coat was hung on the clothes tree. He removed the torn handbill from the inside pocket and returned to his desk and sat down again.

After placing the two, torn sheets of paper together he was able to see most of the photo's and print on the circular. Gazing

first at the photograph of Gabriela Brunsdorff and then at the photo of Natasha Dubcek, he noticed that behind the white, powder makeup on the face of the ballerina, Brunsdorff was the visible on set of aging. He read again the print and wrote down,

Anthony Rogers, Rogers Productions, 1800 Boardwalk, Nautilus Beach, New Jersey, Telephone, 609-443-8443. Wallace reached for the telephone on his desk and dialed the number. After three rings a woman answered by saying, “Rogers Productions, how may I help you?”

“This is Detective Robert Wallace. I'd like to speak to Mr. Rogers.”.

“I'm sorry sir, but Mr. Rogers is in conference at the moment. May I take a message?”

“Yes you can. Tell Mr. Rogers that I called. I want to speak to him about the death of Gabriela Brunsdorff. You can also tell him we can either talk in his office, or mine, It's up to him.”

“Yes sir. Is there anything else?”

“Yes tell him I go off duty at four o'clock and that I expect to hear from him before that time.”

“Do you have a number where he can reach you sir?'

“Yes, Nautilus Beach Police Department, Major Crime Squad. Ask for Detective Robert Wallace.”

After hanging up the receiver Wallace continued looking at the flyer concentrating on the thumb nail photo of Natasha Dubcek, the ballerina's understudy. He picked up a pen and wrote her name on a list of person's he wanted to talk with.

An hour later the office telephone rang. “Major Crime Squad. Detective Wallace', he said.

“This is Anthony Rogers. I was told to call you.'

“Yes, thanks for returning my call. I'll get right to the point sir. I'd like to sit down with you and go over a few things in relation to Gabriela Bunsdorff.”

“What kind of things?”

“For instance who her agent or manger was. Her contract with you. At the same time I'd like any information you might have on the understudy, Natasha Dubcek and if you know it, the name of her agent.”

“Why are the police interested in my contract with Miss Brunsdorff?”, asked Rogers.

“If you don't mind, I'd like to answer that question in person, not on the telephone,” Wallace answered.

“Very Well. Give me a moment to look over my schedule for tomorrow. At the same time I'll confer with my secretary. I'll put you on hold.” As Wallace waited he listened to the sound of Rhapsody In Blue being piped into his receiver. Then, it stopped. “Detective Wallace?”

“Yes,” Wallace answered.

“I'm free tomorrow morning between nine and ten am.

Is that good for you?”

“Yes sir and I assume you mean to meet in your office,” asked Wallace.

“If it's not a problem.”

“No sir. I'll see you then.”

Rogers didn't say good by. He just hung up the receiver on his end. All Wallace heard was a loud, click!

Placing the receiver back on the cradle Wallace again picked up the handbill, but this time concentrated on the picture of Natasha Dubcek. For some reason he wanted to look at the photo. Her dark eyes appeared to look back at him. Her hair, dark in the photo was short in what he guessed was either a page boy or pixie cut. “What the hell do I know about women's hair styles?”, he asked himself mentally. He got up,, then picked up the flier and carried it to the printer. After running off three copies he took them back to his desk. Two copies he placed in the file. With the other copy he took a pair of scissors and cut out the thumb nail photo of the understudy, then placed it in his wallet.

At four thirty pm. Wallace rode the elevator to the condominium sixth floor. He got off and walked to the front door of his unit, unlocked the door and entered. He stopped to glance at the small batch of mail his housekeeper had placed on his desk. Setting aside the electric, water and telephone bills he then tossed the non-essential and unimportant mail in the wastepaper basket. He then headed for the kitchen where he stood in front of the freezer trying to decide just which frozen meal he would heat in the microwave oven.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Three

Anthony Rogers

At eight fifty five in the morning Detective Robert Wallace entered the office of Anthony Rogers Productions. He was met by an attractive young woman to whom he introduced himself. “Oh, yes. Mr. Rogers is expecting you. If you would wait just a moment I'll let him know that you are here,” she said.

“Thank you,” Wallace replied.

Two minutes later Wallace shook hands with Anthony Rogers. As he did he visually examined the man, a man of middle age, probably forty two to forty five years of age. Rogers was tall, but not quite six feet, more like five foot ten. He was slender, well dressed and with just a touch of gray hair at the temples. He could be consider to be a handsome man. Wallace had done his homework and did some research on Anthony Rogers. What he found was the fact that originally Rogers had been a mailman delivering mail to the boardwalk merchants. One such merchant was Abigail Munson, a very rich widow and over a period of time Rogers convinced the widow to marry him. When she did, he quit the post office and entered a world and life of wealth. From that time on he made investments in real estate, stocks and bonds and eventually founded Anthony Roger Productions, a company that dealt with stage plays, musicals, concerts, and indoor sporting events. Just recently he brought in the Baranovsky Ballet Company from New York, starring Gabriela Brunsdorff as the ballerina. “Thank you for taking time to meet with me Mr. Rogers,” said Wallace.

“It's no problem. I assume you want to discuss the death of Gabriela, right?”

“Yes, sir. That and a few other things.'

“What would you like to know?”

“To start with, who was with her, here in Nautilus Beach?”

“I can't say exactly, but I do know that Alan Balak, her agent and manager was here. He and I had a long discussion after she was rushed to the hospital.”

“I see. Anyone else?”

“Natasha Dubcek, Gabriela's understudy and Natasha's agent, Harry Brummel.”

“Is that it?”

“Gabriela's dresser, but I don't know her name.”

“I see, thank you, said Wallace as he wrote the names in his notebook. “Now, I'm afraid I might have to get somewhat personal.”

“What would you like to know?”

“The word around town is that, how shall I put it? The word is that you took a bath financially last evening. They say that the house was only half full. The ballroom where the ballet was staged seats approximately fifteen thousand. Yet, it is said that less then two thousand showed up for the show. Is that correct?”

“Yes it is. What do you know about the ballet, Officer?”

“Not too much.”

“Then consider this. Two thousand patrons attending a ballet is not a financial disaster. As a matter of fact it is a tremendous success. The problem was that the Convention Center Ballroom was available at a reasonable price, but had a seating capacity much too large for the event. Now, as far as me taking a bath financially, I can assure you that I didn't and won't. You see, I took out an insurance policy for this show. The insurance company must pay in the event of any type of interruption, such as labor problems, fire, flood, and or the death or injury of the headliner, in this case Gabriela Brunsdorff.”

“I see. Well that dispels that rumor. May I ask what you plan to do now in reference to the ballet?”

“I plan to allow it to go on depending on what terms I come to in dealing with Natasha Dubcek's agent. Of course much depends on the turn out now that the public knows about Gabriela.”

“Do you know where I could find Mr. Balak? I'd like to talk with him'.

“The entire troupe is staying at the Trinidad Hotel. You can probably find him there.”

“Thank you Mr. Rogers. You've been a big help.'

“My pleasure. If you need to see me again just call and make arrangements with my secretary.”

“I will sir, good by.”

As he walked out on to the boardwalk, he caught the smell of salt water carried on the breeze coming in off of the ocean. He looked towards the water seeing small waves slowly breaking then rolling up on the sand. The sun was rising but not quite directly overhead and was not generating any heat on this chilly morning. Somewhere, someone was cooking and he caught the aroma of fresh coffee and fried bacon and the sense of smell made his stomach rumble.

He pulled into the portal of the Trinidad Hotel. As he got out of the unmarked radio car he was met by the doorman. “Leave it right here. I won't be long”, said Wallace showing his badge. Entering the hotel lobby he made his way to the registration desk. “May I help you sir?” asked the desk clerk.

“Yes. Do you have a Mr. Alan Balak registered here?, asked Wallace.

“On moment sir,” said the clerk as he turned the registration book and looked at the names registered in it. “Yes sir. Would you like me to call his room?”

“Please.'

After a few minutes the clerk said, “I'm sorry sir there is no answer. Would you care to leave a message?”

“Yes, I'll be right back. Wallace walked over to the writing desk in the lobby. He sat down and on hotel stationery wrote, “Mr. Balak, please contact Detective Robert Wallace at the Major Crime Squad, Nautilus Beach Police Department.' He folded the note and placed it in an envelope then wrote Balak on it. Walking back he said to the clerk as he handed the envelope to him, “See that Mr. Balak get's this please.”

“Yes sir.”

At exactly one pm Wallace returned from lunch carrying a white paper bag. Inside the bag was a Styrofoam cup of coffee, creamers, packets of sugar and plastic stirrers. Wallace was a confirmed coffee drinker, consuming between six and eight cups a day. At the same time ``he usually smoked two packs of cigarettes a day. When working a case and with the adrenalin raised, it was not unusual for him to go through three packs, smoking one cigarette after the other as he worked. When he entered the squad room he saw a small, portly man sitting next to his desk.

From where he stood Wallace estimated that the man was in his mid fifties. He wore a rumbled, black suit, white shirt, blue tie and brown shoes that didn't really go with the clothes he was wearing.

Wallace walked up to his desk, placed the paper bag on the desk top, looked at the man and said, “Can I help you?”

“Are you Detective Wallace?”, asked the man.

“Yes I am”.

“I'm Alan Balak. I got your note.”

“Sorry to have to take up your time Mr. Balak, but there are a few questions only you can answer in relation to the death of Miss Brunsdorff. I intended to speak with you at the hotel, but the desk clerk said that you weren't in your room.”

“I was busy with Gabriela's contract. The production company doesn't want to pay for her last performance. They claim that since she collapsed on the stage the incident legally means that she did not finish her dance and that she shouldn't be paid.”

“I see. Still, I want to thank you for coming in to see me.”

“No problem Officer. I had to come to city hall to pick up her death certificates. Unfortunately they're not ready yet. Seems the attending physician who pronounced her dead has not signed them. Now, since I'm here. What would you like to know?”

“Let's start with your relationship to Miss Brunsdorff.”

“Fine. I'm her agent and manger and have been for the past seventeen years.”

“ I have to let you know that I have to get personal.

As her agent what was your financial situation with Miss Brunsdorff?”

“The typical ten per cent.”

“Ten per cent of her salary?”

“Ten per cent of anything she made, dances, endorsements, television appearances, things of that nature.”

“I see. It seems to me that with her popularity she was often in demand. Looks like you will be losing a great deal of money now that she's gone.”

“Yes, but it had to end someday. A ballerina's career is often very short. Rarely does a dancer of her caliber dance past the age of thirty”.

“And how old was Gabriela?”

“Almost thirty five.”

“What can you tell me about her health?”

“You probably know by now that she had what is called

atrial fibrillation.”

“Yes, I do. I also know that she was prescribed Lanoxin to treat the condition.”

“That's true.”

“And, her heart problem didn't present any problems for her?”

“None what so ever. Her only problem was aging. It's not easy for a ballerina in her mid-thirties to dance and appear as a young Cinderella or Sleeping Beauty.”

“Once again, I need to get personal. Did you have any type of insurance policy on Miss Brunsdorff?”

“No.”

“To your knowledge did anyone else have one?”

“Not that I know of. I certainly didn't.”

“O.K. that about answers the questions I wanted to ask you today. What happens now?”

“Do you mean to the ballet or to me?”

“Both.”

“As for the ballet, I left Mr. Rogers office this morning with the understanding that the dance will go on with Natasha Dubcek as the ballerina. As for me, who knows?”

“Perhaps you'll represent another dancer.”

“ Dancers and in particular ballerina's must have a certain body type. First, they must have a high arch foot with a high instep. The girl must be able to turn ninety degrees of turnout from each hip from the hip rotators, not the knees or ankles.

She must have long, stretchy Achilles, long legs, arms and neck, but with a short torso. When it comes to her legs there should be hyper-extended knees and with the calves going slightly back. Of course, she must have a small, round, head. No body curves. On top of those things I just mentioned she must know how to dance. So you see Detective, only two per cent of the female population is born with what is called a ballet body which is much more than the right height and weight. A ballet dancer should be at or around five feet, five inches tall and weigh one hundred and five pounds. Now, tell me, do you have someone in mind that I can represent?”

“No I don't. You mentioned the fact that Natasha Dubcek will now become the ballerina, who made that decision?” asked Wallace.

“The Artistic Director Viktor Baranovsky who is also the choreographer and with the approval of Anthony Rogers, I assume.”

“What about Miss Dubcek’s agent?”

“Harry Brummel? He has no control over who dances and who doesn’t. That decision is made between the Artistic Director and the Producer.”

“I have one other question And then I'll let you go Mr. Balak. Who is allowed or is present at any time in Miss Brundorff's dressing room?”

“Margaret Helms, Gabriela, once in awhile Viktor, and naturally myself.”

“Who is Margaret Helms. She's new to me?”

“Gabriela's dresser.”

Wallace wrote the name down on a sheet of paper. “Thank you Mr. Balak. You've been a big help. How long will you be in town?”

“One or two more days. It depends on how Mr. Rogers responds to my request for payment to Gabriela's estate. After that I'll be home in Philadelphia. Here's my card. If you need something just call.”

“Thanks again”, said Wallace as he shook Balk’s hand.

After Balak left Wallace turned to his typewriter and began writing his report. As he typed he mentally went over the facts as he knew them. “Now, two new names come into the picture, the Artistic Director, Viktor Baranovsky and Margaret Helms. How many more, I wonder?” he thought to himself. He removed the last typed page from the typewriter, signed his name, opened the file and as he was about to place the report inside he stopped, seeing the torn handbill with the thumbnail photo of Natasha Dubcek. He picked up the torn piece of the playbill and looked long at the picture, seeing again the dark eyes and the small mouth with just a hint of a smile. Placing the paper back into the file he reached for the pack of cigarettes on his desk. When he did he saw the white paper bag containing the coffee. “Son of a bitch!”, he said aloud. After removing the cup from the bag he removed the lid and drank the coffee, even though it was cold.

Next, he called the C.S.I. Unit. When a technician answered the telephone Wallace asked about what they had found from the evidence he had submitted for examination. “We are still testing the frosted glass. When we have a result we'll let you know. As for the glass shard we did find a smeared latent print. It's useless as far as being used as evidence,” said the technician.“Alright, thank you”, Wallace replied and hung up. He then dialed the number for Anthony Rogers Production. When the woman answered he identified himself and asked to speak to Mr. Rogers. After a couple of minutes Rogers came on the line. “Officer Wallace, what can I do for you?”

“I understand that you're going ahead with the Baranovsky Ballet,” said Wallace.

“That's correct. I decided to go ahead with the production. To my surprise not too many ticket holders are requesting a refund and sales at the widow are still going on.”

“Hey that's great, looks like you won't be losing money after all.”

“Well school's still out on that. I had to go to another insurance company in order to continue the show. Naturally after Gabriela's death and the word out in the insurance world that someone might have to pay me, rates all of a sudden went up, However, that's the price of doing business. Now, why did you call and I know that it's not to tell me what you heard about me continuing with the ballet.”

“Very good Mr. Rogers. Actually I need a favor”.

“What kind of favor?”

“Since you are the producer I was wondering if it would be possible for me to look in and watch a rehearsal?”

“Are you telling me that all of a sudden you are interested in the art of dance officer Wallace?

“No sir. I want to watch in order to see the moves the ballerina makes as she dances. The pathologist mentioned the possible of exertion being one of the causes of Miss Brunsdoff 's death. At the same time I need to question Natasha Dubcek.”

“Why are you asking me. As a police officer you don't need my permission to watch a practice of ballet and the Convention Center Ballroom is city property.”

“True, but it's a question of ethics. It's your show, your money and technically, Miss Dubcek is presently one of your employees.”

“I see. Well, thank you for your consideration. I'll contact Viktor and tell him that you'll be about somewhere in the ballroom. I think rehearsals take place from ten in the morning until noon then again from one to three. O.K.?”

“Thanks, Mr. Rogers.

“No problem, take care.”

After hanging up the telephone Wallace wrote the rehearsal times in his notebook. He then looked up to see Sergeant John Ackerman coming towards him.

“Wallace? Bring me up to date. What do we have?”, asked Ackerman.

“Right now, besides a dead ballerina in the morgue, a useless shard of glass, one frosted glass that I'm still waited for results from testing and a list of names as long as your arms, we've got nothing.” answered Wallace.

“I was afraid of that. Then, let me ask you this. Where are we going?”

“Hopefully to an arrest and conviction Sarge. I'm still digging. To my way of thinking the answer as to who killed Gabriela Brunsdorff and why, lays among those in the dance troop of the Baranovsky Ballet. Hopefully, I'll find him or her.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Four

Natasha Dubcek

 

At ten fifteen in the morning of Wednesday, September 13, 1972 Robert Wallace walked down the long aisle inside the Convention Center Ballroom. As he did he saw the orchestra conductor moving his baton as the sounds of string instruments

Resonated from the orchestra pit. On the stage he saw the ballet dancers rehearsing their routine. In a seat in the first row and next to the aisle sat a man, Wallace thought to be Viktor Baranovsky. “In unison! Move together! Move as one person,” said the director.

Wallace took a seat in the fifth row, far enough away from Baranovsky, but close enough to see those on stage.

When Baranovsky shouted instructions his voice interrupted the orchestra conductor and he waved his baton, stopping the music. “Sorry Maestro. Can we try it again from the top please?”, asked Viktor.

After the music started again Wallace saw Baranovsky stand up and shout, “No! No! No! You girls are impossible! The dance is called, The Dance of Friends. You are dancing like enemies. Get off the stage! Get out of my sight! I'm sorry Maestro. Let's take a break. Rest the orchestra. I want Natasha and Alexsey next”, he ordered. When he got up out of his seat Viktor saw Wallace. “You must be the cop I was told to expect this morning,” said Baranovsky.

“Well, if someone told you that, then I'd say they were right,” Wallace replied.

“They also told me that you would want to talk to Natasha.

“Right again, but it can wait until you and her are finished for the day.”

“It might take awhile.”

“I get paid by the hour,” said Wallace as he turned his attention to the lovely, petite young woman who walked out on to the stage. He couldn't take his eyes off of her. As a ballet dancer she was like those Balk had described. She was small, small boned, short but with long beautiful legs. She had very white skin and her dark hair had a pixie cut. He noticed her eyebrows, dark and thick that accented her eyes and oval face.

A few minutes later she was joined by a male dancer. Viktor saw them and said, “When we are ready we will rehearse The Bluebird and Princess Florine.” Turning to the orchestra conductor he said, “The Bluebird in about five minutes if that's alright with you. Alexsey, as the bluebird I want you to enter the stage from stage right at the sound of the music. Natasha, darling, do you know your musical cue?”

“Yes Viktor”, she answered.

It was the first time that Wallace had heard her voice and it came to him soft and melodious. Then, the music started. Wallace was a great admirer of classical music, but had very little experience of listening to music from ballets. As he listen he saw the dancer Alexsey enter the stage and soon he and Natasha were dancing together. At eleven fifty five in the morning Viktor Baranovsky stopped the rehearsal telling everyone to be back at one in the afternoon. Wallace was surprised to see Natasha Dubcek come down the steps and on to the ballroom floor and as she walked towards him she smiled. “You must be the police officer I was told wanted to talk to me”, she said, dabbing drops of perspiration from her face with a white, terry towel

“Yes, I'm Detective Wallace.”

“Do you have a first name Detective Wallace?”

“Robert.”

“Robert. May I call you Robert?”

“Certainly.”

“Good. Tell me Robert will the talk you want to have with me be lengthy or short?'

“I'm afraid that it might be somewhat lengthy.”

“In that case, why don't we talk over dinner tonight. I'm tired of eating hotel food and I'm sure that you know the city and the best places to dine”.

Wallace smiled. “I do know the city, but when it comes to dining I'd have to know just what type of cuisine you prefer.”

“Since I'm a dancer naturally I must watch my weight. So, I prefer seafood, if that's alright with you.”

“Fish, or shellfish?”

“Either or both.”

“Time?”

“I'll be ready at seven.”

“Room number at the Trinidad?”

“You don't need to know that. I'll be outside waiting. Don't be late.”

***************

At eight that evening Mrs. Albertino along with her husband George after seating the couple handed both of them menus.

“Would you like wine with dinner?” Robert asked Natasha.

“That sounds interesting. Yes.”

“A bottle of Pinot Noir when you have time Mrs. Albertino”, said Wallace.

“So, I was right. You do know the best places to eat,” said Natasha.

“You haven't tasted the food here yet, but yes I consider George’s one of the best Italian restaurants in town.”

“Even though it's located on a back street.”

“A place where the tourists don't know about. It's one of us local peoples secrets.”

“Oh? I wonder what other secrets you're holding from me?”

Wallace smiled. “I think that it's possible that you might get some from me”.

“I think I will. Now, just what do you want to talk to me about? And, let's get the professional you out of the way so we can enjoy the natural you this evening.”

“Fine. Let's start with the death of Gabriela. You were her understudy. That means you had much to gain with her death. Unfortunately, that gives you a motive.”

“Am I a suspect?”

“Of course not. Wait, here comes the wine. After the wine was poured Natasha took a sip then said, “Please continue Robert.

“Well, since you now know that you're not a suspect can you think of anyone that would want to kill Gabriela?”

“Not really.”

“How about Viktor?”

“What made you think of Victor?”, asked Natasha.

“I think you know as well as I do that Gabriela was getting up there in age for a dancer. Wouldn't it be logical for him to want to replace her with a younger ballerina, such as you?”

“Not as long as ticket sales were up and believe me, they were up. Now, I have to take my performance to a high level and hopefully ticket sales will remain the same or better.”

“How long have you been dancing?”

“Since I was eight years old.”

“So, it took you twelve years and now you're the ballerina.”

“How did you know it took me twelve years?'

“The playbill lists you as being twenty years old.”

“The playbill doesn’t mention the years of training at the ballet academy in Chicago. It doesn't mention giving up my childhood in order to be a dancer, or day after day in dance studios. By the time I was fourteen I was dancing twenty to thirty hours a week. .At age seventeen I apprenticed with a company. The next year I joined the corp de ballet. Then if you're good, really good you become a soloists and hopefully someday, a ballerina.

A dancers career is generally over by the time she reaches thirty years old. Rarely does a ballerina dance until shes forty. Although I think Gabriela would have tried. Now, I'll shut up because here comes the waiter.”

“I'll have the Cioppino,” said Wallace.

“What does that consist of?”, asked Natasha.

“Shrimp, scallops. Clams, mussels and crab meat in a sauce made with oregano and thyme.” said the waiter.

“That sounds good. I'll have that also”, said Natasha as she picked up her wine glass and took another sip.

When the waiter left Wallace said, Now, you're the star, the ballerina, just what you wanted.”

“You saw the rehearsal this morning did you notice the girls in the dance troupe?”

“Yes.”

“Everyone of them want to be the ballerina. I was and am no different.”

“That's only natural,” said Wallace.

“Tell me Robert. If it hadn't been the death of Gabriela would you have a natural interest in ballet?”

“To tell you the truth the only ballet I would like to see is one done to Ravels' Bolero.”

“That's not done too often I'm afraid.”

“So I noticed.”

“Maybe someday I'll do it for you.”

“Really?”

“Really. Now, here comes our dinners.”

As they ate Wallace continued to ask questions. “What can you tell me about Margaret Helms?”, he asked.

“She was Gabriela's dresser. Now she's mine.”

“With the title dresser I assume she helps you in and out of your costume before and after the ballet.”

“Oh, she does much more than that. She also stands in the wings with needle and thread, tape, bottled water, towels, anything that the dancer might need should anything happen, such as costume repairs. In the dressing room she also acts as a handmaid so to speak getting or serving anything that I might need or want.”

“Seems to me that the ballerina is somewhat pampered.”

“I'll agree, but at the same time mention that by the time a dancer becomes a ballerina, she has earned that kind of attention.”

“And, in my opinion you like the attention.”

“I'll admit to liking the attention you're paying to me.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“You keep staring at me. Why?”

“I'm fascinated with your hair style.”

“Really? It has to be somewhat short. Long locks of hair can not be seen being tossed in the air as one spins, jumps or twirls.”

“Well, I like it. Now, to change the subject, how did you like your dinner?,”asked Wallace.

“It was excellent. Thank you.”

“No need to thank me. I should thank you. You've co-operated with my questioning and at the same time provided me with beauty and delightful company. If you're ready we can go.”

“Not yet Robert. I think that we should have coffee. At the same time you can have the cigarette that you want so badly. Then, Detective Wallace it will be my turn to ask the questions.”

“Wallace smiled. “Be careful. You're becoming a woman after my own heart. Is my need for a smoke that apparent?”

“Yes Robert and if I were, after anything I'd want much more than your heart."

After the coffee was served Wallace stirred the cream and sugar with a spoon, then reached into his shirt pocket and removed a pack of cigarettes. “You're sure that this won't bother you?” he said.

“No, not at all. Enjoy yourself. Now, tell me all about yourself,” she said.

“There's not too much to tell. I'm a local guy, born here, raised here, left here to do a hitch in the navy. Came back. Took a job as a police officer and here I am with you.”

“That's all you can tell me?”

“Yep, afraid so.”

“Why are you still single?”

“I haven't met the right woman and while I wait I enjoy being a bachelor.”

“And, I assume there are many rewards for being a bachelor.”

“Yes, about the same amount as a single woman. The Victorian days are long gone thank goodness. Now, I see that you've finished your coffee. If you're ready we can go.”

“Fine, but I don't want to go back to the hotel and sit in a hotel room. Can we go someplace else?”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Show me where you live.”

“Why?'

“Because I still have questions about you that I want answered.”

“All of a sudden, you're the one doing an investigation. Very well. I'll show you what you want to see.”

“I hope so.”

Later, as they rode the elevator to the sixth floor Natasha said, “So you live in a condominium. How nice.”

“I don't know how nice it is, but it's comfortable as well as convenient,” Wallace replied as they stepped out into the sixth floor hallway.

He unlocked the door, opened it and allow Natasha to enter first. “Oh my, Very nice. Amazing that you keep it so neat,” she said.

“I don't, my housekeeper picks up after me.”

“So, we have a police officer who not only lives in a condominium, but at the same time has a housekeeper. Interesting, said Natasha.”

“If you say so. It seems normal to me.”

“Forgive me for asking, but your salary couldn't possibly pay for all of this.”

“True, but I own the building.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“Well, as the saying goes, there's more to you than meets the eye."

“Actually, the building belonged to my parents. I inherited it when they passed away. Let's go into the den. We can sit and talk there. Can I get you anything?”

“You can direct me to the little girls room.”

“Sure, right down this hallway and on your right.”

“Thank you I'll be right back.”

When Natasha came back into the room she noticed the glass paneled doors that led to the balcony. She walked to it and looked outside seeing the ocean and boardwalk. “You have a lovely view”, she said.

“I like it.”

“Natasha turned and saw the large stereo and some of Robert's record collection. “Well it's apparent that you do like music,” she said.

“Yep, mostly pop and classical.”

“Yes, of course. You mentioned Ravel's Bolero. Unfortunately this room is too small, or I'd dance to it for you. Ravel wrote the piece for Ida Rubinstein. Did you know that?”

“No.”

“What else do you like?”

“Cole Porter's Begin the beguine.”

“Put it on and dance with me, if you can.”

Wallace got up out of his chair, and with a smile on his face walked to the stereo, selected the record and after placing it in position pushed the automatic button. The record fell into place and the music began. He took her in his arms and pulled her close. She looked at him and placed her arms around his neck and with dark eyes, eyes that were inviting, moved her body closer to him. To the sounds of the guitars playing the tune they danced. As they did he closed his eyes enjoying the feel of her in his arms, small, petite, moving with him in rhythm, their bodies almost one .He sensed the aroma of her perfume and the shampoo scent in her hair. He danced her across the room then leaned over and switched off one of the floor lamps. In the darkened room she looked up at him and he lowered his face and kissed her. She kissed him back and followed his lead as he danced her back to the center of the room.

When the music stopped he didn't want to let her go and he held her for a few seconds more. When he finally released her she said, “So you can dance the beguine. You're full of surprises. Do you have any more?”

“Lessons at Arthur Murray, no big deal. Now, let me know when you want to go back to the hotel.”

“I'll let you know in the morning,” she answered.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Five

Margaret Helms

 

As Mary Wallace sat at her typewriter working on a manuscript, Robert Wallace reclined in his favorite chair. With his eyes closed he thought again about the homicide case resulting in the death of Gabriela Brunsdorff. As he did things and events came back to him.

At nine thirty that next morning Robert Wallace remembered walking into the squad room. “You're late Wallace”, Frank Stiles had said.

“I called in earlier and told the Sarge that I'd be late.” Wallace replied.

“Why? Did you find it hard to get up this morning? My wife saw you with a young woman at George's Restaurant last night. She said the woman looked like Audrey Hepburn. Is that right?” asked Stiles.

“I'd say she closely resembles Hepburn. What was your wife dong at George's without you?”

“It was a girls night out thing,' said Stiles.

“Anyway, not that it matters, but my being at George's last evening was part of this investigation. I got another name, another person to question. She's the ballerina's dresser, Margaret Helms,” Wallace explained.

“Are you bringing her in?” asked Stiles.

“Yes, I think it's better to question her here, away from the theater. I'll have a radio car crew pick her up after three this afternoon.”

At three thirty five in the afternoon Wallace looked up from the paper work he was doing at his desk. When he did he saw a small built woman with gray hair. She appeared to be in her mid to late fifties in age and had a worried expression on her face. Wallace stood up and said, “You must be Margaret Helms. Is it Miss or Mrs.?”

“It's Miss. Why am I here?”, Helms asked.

“Please Miss Helms have a seat. Believe me you are only here to help answer some questions that I have regarding the death of Gabriela Brunsdorff. Let, me say this, what you may tell me is very important to my investigation,” said Wallace.

“I don't know how I can help, but I'll try”.

“Thank you Miss Helms. Now, to begin with, I understand that your position with the ballet company is that of a dresser for Gabriela. Is that correct?”

“Yes, only now I am the dresser for Natasha Dubcek.”

“I see, now for those of us that are not familiar with your role could you tell me exactly what you do?”

“The title dresser comes from the duty of helping the ballerina into and out of her costumes before and after the dance. I also stand in the wings with emergency supplies such as needle and thread, tape, things of that nature just in case there is a costume malfunction. Other times I see to the needs of the ballerina. In the case of Gabriela I also made sure that she wasn't disturbed by fans and that she rested between dances.”

“Did you also oversee her taking her medication?”

“Yes. Usually she took her Lanoxin before the show.”

“How soon before the show?”

“I'd say about a half an hour before the show. That way it was acting before and while she danced.”

“Did you administer the Lanoxin or did she do it herself?”

“During rehearsals or paid performances I was the one who saw that she took it.”

“If you would, please tell me exactly how you did that the evening of her death.”

“Gabriela took her medication before each performance or rehearsal. I always had a glass of water available for her in the dressing room. The night she died I had dropped and broke the glass and I went to Natasha's dressing room and took one that was frosted. I filled it with water and set it on the table as usual. Then Gabriela and I went to the wings to watch Natasha dance her solo. We came back, she took her medication and you know the rest.”

“Why the table?. Why not the dressing table?”

“Because after she danced a number she would come back to the dressing room, sit and rest, allowing her heart to stop beating rapidly. When she did I always had a glass of water on the table next to the chair she sat in.”

“Did she usually drink the water?”

“Yes. When we went back to the dressing room after her first dance number there was the frosted glass filled with water on the table. She sat down, took several sips of water and as I remembered made a face as if something was wrong with the water.”

“What did you think when that happened?”

“First of all I was thankful that I had been able to replace the glass and water. When it came to Gabriela making a face after taking her medication she always did that.”

“I see. So, correct me if I'm wrong. You gave Gabriela her medication before she went on stage the first time. You and she came back to the dressing room where she sat and rested between dance numbers and she took sips from the frosted glass.”

“Yes sir. That's what happened.”

“Now, the broken glass. Did you sweep it up?”

“No, someone else did.”

“Any idea who would have done it?'

“No, but whoever it was was probably the one who saved me the trouble.”

“I'll tell you what Miss Helms. I have to agree with you. Thank you for coming in to see me. I might want to talk with you later. Right now, I'll have someone take you to the hotel.”

At five pm that day Wallace stood in front of his refrigerator freezer trying to decide on just which frozen dinner he was going to heat in the microwave. At the sound of the door buzzer he closed the freezer and went to see who was there. He opened it and saw Natasha. “Well, well, what a surprise” he said.

“Do you mind me coming back to see you?”

“Mind? Hell, I'm delighted. Is everything OK.?”

“Yes, as I told you last night. I get bored sitting in a hotel room. What were you doing before you answered the door?”

“Trying to figure out what to have for dinner.”

“Oh, and I interrupted you. I'm sorry I should have called.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Now that you're here we can go out to eat or I can call for take out. It's up to you.”

“Then call for take out, but not right away. I want you to put your arms around me and hold me. Hold me close like you did last night.”

Wallace smiled. “Your wish is my command, but as I recall we were dancing then.”

“Forget dancing, just hold me”.

Taking her in his arms he asked, “Is something wrong?”

“Not really. I had an incident today at rehearsal, but I don't want to talk about it.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“No, I'll handle it. Now let's just sit and talk.”

“Fine, as we talk, think about what you want for dinner.”

Together they sat on the couch. Natasha had removed her shoes and with her legs tucked under her she leaned her head on Robert's shoulder. “Have you learned anything new in your investigation?”, she asked.

“No, not really. Things like this take time. It's like doing a jigsaw puzzle. You just keep trying to make the pieces fit. I still have many pieces of the puzzle to look at.”

“ I see.”

“What about you? How did rehearsal go today?”

“Fine, except Alexsey pulled a muscle this morning. Viktor is a little upset about it.”

“Will Alexsey be able to dance Saturday night?”

“I'm sure he will. Will you be there Robert? Saturday will be the first time I appear as the ballerina instead of the understudy. I want you to be there, to see me dance.”

“Then, I'll be there. No problem. Now, what about dinner?”

“Do you like Chinese?”

“Yep. Wait and I'll go get the menu I have from the Golden Dragon. I call them every once in awhile.”

On Saturday night Wallace showed his badge to the ticket collector and entered the ballroom. He had arrived at the time when the ballet orchestra was tuning up their instruments. In the semi-darkness of the audience section he heard the musicians playing various instruments playing the scale. The sounds of the trumpets and slide trombones came to him, do ,re, mi, fa, sol, was played over and over the pitch rising each time. Then, the sounds of string instruments, violins and cellos could be heard. Wallace looked over the audience. There appeared to be the beginning of a decent turn out for the event. The main floor seats were filling fast and as he turned his head he saw many patrons entering the room. He was glad there would be a decent size audience for Natasha's debut as the ballerina. She wouldn't be disappointed.

He wanted to go back stage and watch her from the wings, but considered it to be too presumptuous. He was an outsider, a fan, true, but still someone outside of the art of dance. He belonged to a different world then those in the dance troupe. So, he decided to watch from the aisle next to the wall. From there he could see the stage. He took time to open the program he had been handed when he entered the ballroom and saw the first act was called, “Aurora Variation.” Wallace had no idea what the act would be all about. He had to wait and see.

Soon the music started and Natasha appeared on stage. She was dressed completely in pink with ballerina slippers, pink tights, and a pink costume with an embroidered floral design. He was amazed at how fluid she was as she dance and completely astonished about the amount of time she danced only on her toes. When she was finished she received a standing ovation from the audience and he smiled. She was a hit.

In the second act Natasha appeared on stage with twenty female dancers. This time she wore an all white ensemble. A rhinestone tiara was on her head and she danced on her toes again but to him much less then her opening number. Again when she finished the crowd rewarded her with shouts of praise and thunderous applause. Instead of waiting for the other acts he decided to make his way backstage to her dressing room. When he got there he noticed that Gabriela's dressing room was right next door. The door was ajar so he walked inside and knowing where the light switch was flipped it, turning on the ceiling light again. He took a seat and sat looking at the spot where he had found the drinking glass shard on the floor. Suddenly, he got the feeling that he had missed something. “What is it? What did I miss?” he asked himself mentally. His eyes looked at everything in the room, the dressing table, three chairs, the small table that held the drinking glass, the wastepaper basket. “Damn it! I forgot to keep and examine the wastepaper basket! I had just reached in and took the handbill. Son of a bitch! You dumb bastard!”, he thought.

Wallace looked up when suddenly the dressing room door opened quickly. “Who the hell are you and what are you doing in here?” asked a man dressed in a suite with tie. Wallace judged him to be about forty to forty five years old. The man was both well dressed and well groomed.

“Police, I'm just looking around”, said Wallace.

“Do you have a warrant?”

“What are you, a lawyer?”asked Wallace.

“No, but I know that you have no right searching anyplace without a warrant.”

“Hey, maybe you're a law professor. Let me tell you, whoever you are there's such a thing as probable cause. Since this room is part of an original crime scene I consider the fact that I have that probable cause. Now, you can accept the fact that I'm within my rights here or you can not accept my right. Personally, I don't give a damn. Keep running your mouth with the attitude you're displaying and we'll be talking about your rights. Do you understand?”

“I know who you are. You're the cop Natasha has taken up with. I want you to stay away from her,” said the man in the suit.

“What are you, her father? The last time I looked she was over eighteen and since I'm over twenty one we can do whatever the hell we want.”

“I'm her agent. She has come a long way to get to where she is now. She has opportunity. What she doesn't need is a distraction taking her away from her goal, her dancing as a ballerina.”

“Hey mister, I don't want to hear it. Natasha's a big girl. She can make her own decisions as far as I'm concerned. Now, that you have succeeded in pissing me off, just who the hell are you and by that I want your name.”

“My names Harry Brummel and as I have said I'm Natasha Dubcek's agent.”

“Good for you. You know what Harry? Somewhere, sometime, someone told you that you were important. Whoever it was is full of shit. Now, just to prove a point Harry, when Natasha's finished tonight she and I will have a late supper. Guess what sport? I might keep her out late.”

After the show Wallace stood outside of Natasha's dressing room. He watched as newspaper reporters flocked to interview her while photographers took her picture. Deliverymen from various flower shops delivered large bouquets to her room. Margaret Helms tried to keep some kind of order.

Wallace also noticed that Harry Brummel was trying to get in the photo's being taken.

Robert was glad for her. She had danced and the audience had loved her. She deserved all of the attention others were giving her. He looked at his wristwatch and knew that it would be some time before she would be ready to leave so he decided to leave the dressing room area and have a cigarette. In an empty hallway he heard the sounds of his footsteps as he walked on the concrete floor. Out of sight he reached into his shirt pocket and removed a pack of cigarettes, took one out of the pack and after placing it between his lips lit it with his lighter. As he inhaled and exhaled one of the cleanup crew members came down the hallway pushing a canvas covered cart. “Ain't none of my business, but you ain't allowed to smoke here,” said the man.

“That figures. Since you must work here, just where is the smoking area?” asked Wallace.

“Hell, I just wanted you to know about the rule. I don't care if you smoke here or not”.

“I take it that you're the janitor”, said Wallace.

“I'm one of many janitors. This area is my responsibility. That's why I'm here.”

“Tell me. Do you also clean the dressing rooms of the dancers?”

“Yep, when I can or when someone asks me.”

“Do you remember sweeping up a broken glass in Gabriela Brunsdorff's dressing room?”

“Nope.”

“Damn. Where is the trash disposal?

“In the dumpster located on the street side of the Convention Center.”

“Has the Waste Management truck picked it up yet?”

“No, that will be sometime next week.”

“Thank you. What's your name?”

“Lou Crawford.”

At ten thirty that evening Natasha walked up to Robert and on tip toe raised her head and kissed him. “Thank you for the flowers,” she said.

“You're more than welcome. Now, I know that you must be hungry. Where do you want to go?”asked Wallace.

“What's open this time of night?”

“There are a few places open, providing you don't mind sitting and eating with hookers, pimps and guys wanting to do business with both.”

“I don't think so.”

“I'm teasing you. Although I will say there are those type of places here in town. No, how would you like to have a late supper consisting of fried shrimp, french fried potatoes and coleslaw?”

“That sounds wonderful.”

“Then let's go. The place is called, “Carson's”. What's in the bag your holding?”

“A change of underwear, hair brush, comb and toothbrush.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Tomorrow is Sunday. We can make love all night and sleep until noon.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Six

Harry Brummel

 

At ten o'clock Monday morning Robert Wallace attired in white, coveralls, climbed inside the trash dumpster, located next to the Convention Center. Once inside he began picking up and opening gray or black plastic trash bags, looking for one that hopefully contained the pieces of the broken glass taken from Gabriela's dressing room. Standing next to the dumpster was Frank Stiles and Kevin English. Both detectives also wore coveralls. Kevin was assigned to C.S.I. After about an hour Wallace picked up one bag and when he did he heard the tinkling sound of glass shards hitting one another. “Bingo!”, said Wallace. “This might be the one”,he continued handing the bag to Stiles.

As he climbed out of the trash container Wallace said to Kevin English, “What I want you to do is first examine the broken pieces of glass. Compare them to the shard I submitted earlier. If it is what I think it is, it's the broken glass from Gabriela Brunsdorff's dressing room, then look for any latent fingerprints that might have been left on it.”

“Do you have any idea of just how many people could have touched that glass?”, asked English?

“Yeah, two that probably did were Gabriela and Miss Helms. Send a technician to the morgue and have them take Gabriela's prints, then have someone go to the Convention Center and take Margaret Helms prints. That way if you find anything else you can eliminate the two women.”

At five thirty that evening Wallace and Natasha left the condominium and walked across the boardwalk and then stepped on to the sand of the beach. Then hand in hand they made their way to where the ocean waves gently rolled up on to the wet sand. It was now late September. While the weather was mild, still, there was a hint of the approaching autumn. A cool breeze blew in from the north sending a warning about what was yet to come. “How did practice go today?” asked Robert.

“Fine.”

“No problems?”

Natasha stopped walking and looking up at him asked, “Why do you ask?”

“Because awhile back you mentioned that you had a problem at rehearsal, but you didn't want to talk about it. In fact you referred to the problem as an incident. Remember?”

“Yes.”

“Was there another incident?”

“Yes.”

“Will you tell me what it is or was?”

“No, let it go Robert. I can handle it myself.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Let's walk. The ocean is beautiful right now. Look, it's still picking up the light from the setting sun. The water appears as if there are gold flecks in it. I've never seen it so pretty.”

“If you say so.”

“You probably don't appreciate beauty, you being so rough and gruff.”

“Sure I do.”

“Really give me one example where you regard something of beauty.”

“That's easy. You. To me you're the most beautiful thing I've ever laid eyes on?”

“Sh. Don't talk.”

“Why have I said too much?”

“No, I just want you to kiss me.”

After the kiss they continued to walk hand in hand. As they did sandpipers ran ahead of them racing to search for food after each broken wave that had raced to the shore receded back into the ocean. Seagulls seemed to hang motionless as they rode the air currents and like the sandpipers searched for a meal, occasionally diving into the water taking small fish. And it seemed to him that he didn't want that time to end. Deep down, he knew he was falling in love with her.

The next morning Wallace sat patiently as Sergeant John Ackerman read submitted reports related to the investigation.

“There appears that you're not making too much headway Robert,”said Ackerman.

“Well, in my defense I'm still waiting for lab reports and they're slow in coming.” replied Wallace.

“At least you should be able to name a suspect.”

“To tell you the truth, just about everyone in the show could be considered a suspect.”

“Does that include the ballerina that you're sleeping with?”

Wallace fought against the anger building inside of him, the result of the Sergeant's remark. “No, if you paid attention to my report you would have seen that Natasha Dubcek was on stage doing her solo.”

“So?”

“So, it's my opinion that if a high dose of Lanoxin was placed in the frosted glass containing water it was put there when Natasha was dancing and Gabriela and Margaret Helms were out of the dressing room and in the wings of the stage.”

“Alright, I'll consider your excuse about needing the lab reports. At the same time I believe that you're losing your focus in this investigation. Wake up. Now, get back to work.”

Wallace walked back into the squad room. “What's up?” asked Frank Stiles.

“I'm bringing in Harry Brummel,” Wallace answered.

“Why?”

“ I did a background investigation on him. It seems that he is a dance agent with offices in both New York and Philadelphia.”

“So?” asked Stiles.

“If he's that busy, needing two offices, why is he here all of the time in Nautilus Beach?”

“Hey, it could be he's like you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe he's got a thing for Natasha.”

“I don't know about that, but I do know that he's always backstage. In fact, he interrupted me while I was going over Gabriela's dressing room again.”

“And knowing you, he pissed you off,” said Stiles.

“Regardless, he like the others had a motive to see Gabriela dead.”

“What was it?”

“Think about it. Natasha is his client. If she replaces Gabriela and becomes the ballerina her salary goes up. When that happens his ten per cent increases.”

“I follow you, but I still think you're making a lot out of nothing. Do what you want.”

An hour later Harry Brummel sat beside the desk of Robert Wallace. “I want you to know that I resent being treated like some criminal. I'm a very busy man.” said Brummel.

“So am I. Now, if you co-operate and answer some questions we both can get back to what we want to do”,Wallace replied.

“Does that mean looking after Natasha?” asked Harry.

“If I were you I'd be very careful when it comes to mentioning Natasha to me,” Wallace replied.

“Listen, don't tell me how to act or what to say when it comes to my client. Right now, I'm willing to be here and answer your questions. However, we both know that I can refuse. On the other hand I could sit here with my lawyer. So, let's get this over as soon as possible.”

“Fine. First question, since you are Natasha and other dancers agent, tell me what you do.”

“ My job is to advise, manage and direct Natasha in her work and profession. I also work to ensure that the business side of her career is managed. Then, of course I'm always looking for better opportunities for her which goes with her talent, skills and training. Her profession as a dancer particularly in ballet is a hard road to travel. So, an agent, such as I am, one that Natasha can communicate with means that together we have a working relationship. We are comfortable together. We respect each other and as a result I can inspire her. I can motivate her and seek more and better settings for her, both professionally and privately.”

“O.K. Tell me how you came to represent her”, said Wallace.

“I have contacts with several dance academies. When a talent like Natasha comes along I'm notified. Naturally then I contact her and after my evaluation I explain why it is necessary for some one like her to have an agent. In this case she agreed and we signed a contract.

“And I assume that contract means that you get ten per cent of everything she makes financially.”

“Correct.”

“So, when Gabriela was replaced by Natasha her salary was raised.”

“Yes, naturally.”

“As did your percentage.”

“Of course.”

“One could look at that as giving you a motive to do away with the lead ballerina.”

“If you think that I killed Gabriela then arrest me.”

“If I do arrest you it will be when I have all the evidence to get you either a death sentence or life in prison.”

“Then I suggest you hurry because the show leaves here on October the thirty first.”

“There's no statute of limitation on murder. You can leave.”

“Thank you. If we meet again under the same circumstances I'll be with my lawyer.”

“If we meet as you say in the same way, you'll need one.”

As a member of the Major Crime Squad Detective Wallace had been assigned an unmarked radio car. He was allowed to take it home, but regulations were that the vehicle couldn't be used for personal use. That being the case and the fact that he had begun to pick up Natasha at the hotel after he left work he decided to use his own gold colored, Ford Granada. Generally, Natasha would be standing outside in the alcove and he would drive up to where she stood and she would open the door and enter, sitting next to him. This time, after she was comfortable he turned to her and asked, “Just when were you going to tell me that the show ends here in October?”

“Soon Robert. Actually, I don't even want to think about it.”

“Where will you be going?”

“Pittsburgh. We'll be there for two weeks, then we start rehearsal for the Nutcracker. We'll do the Nutcracker during the Christmas season, in Buffalo.”

“And, just what the hell am I supposed to do?”

“About what?”

“Us.”

“We'll be fine. I'll write, we can talk on the telephone and I'm sure there will be times when we both can get away from our work. I'll only be a few hours away by air.”

“Wonderful. I was planning Thanksgiving and Christmas with the two of us being together.”

“Please, can we talk about this later. Right now, I'm tired and my feet hurt.”

“It's no wonder your feet hurt. How can you dance on your toes time after time, day after day?”, he asked.

“It's the shoes Robert. They're called, “Pointe Shoes”.

You know them as ballet slippers. The shoe has a boxed toe and each pair then has to be adjusted to the foot. I make the adjustments to my shoes by constantly fitting and sewing. When it comes to the box inside, sometimes I pad it with lamb's wool. I also tape my toes.”

“Then why do your feet hurt?”

“Viktor was somewhat demanding today. He made me dance one of my solo numbers over and over.”

“Is he the one that's bothering you?”

“No.”

“Well somebody is. Why won't you tell me about it and who it is?”

“Just leave it alone. Please.”

“So, you're leaving, just when I was going to ask you to move in with me.”

“If I wasn't leaving I certainly would have.”

“If that's supposed to make me feel better, it doesn’t.”

The next day while sitting at his desk the telephone on his desk rang. See that it was an internal line he answered, “Detective Wallace.”

“C.S.I. I thought you'd like to know that the results are in on the analysis of the yellow, frosted glass you gave us,” said the technician.

“And?”

“And it tested positive for dioxin.”

“Could you tell how much was in the glass?”

“No.”

“O.K. Thanks.”

“What's up?”, asked Frank Stiles seeing a disappointed look on Wallace's face.

“C.S.I. confirmed that dioxin residue was found in the frosted glass we submitted for testing.”

“Good, another piece of the puzzle presents itself. Why so glum asked Stiles.

“Evidently they can't tell the strength of the dioxin they found.”

“To tell you the truth Walley, I don't see a problem. We have the Medical Examiners report and the hospital emergency room report. Both reports indicate that approximately 500 mg of Lanoxin was found in Gabriela Brunsdorff's system.” offered Stiles.

“Yeah I know, but things like that bother me, especially when I have to testify in court,” Wallace replied.

“Well, it seems to me that when it comes to the finding and the strength of Lanoxin in the glass, it will be the C.S.I. people that will have to answer the question, not you.”

“Yeah, you might be right.”

“Are you going to watch the Eagles game this Sunday or are you doing something with the ballerina?” asked Stiles.

“I don't really know Frank. Things all of a sudden are falling apart. The show ends here in October and moves on to Pittsburgh. After that it goes to Buffalo.”

“So, what are you going to do and don't tell me you're going to become one of those love sick Johnnies that follow the lead actress all over the country and stands in the wings watching while she takes curtain call after curtain call. When she's finished doing that she gets surrounded by fans and press reporters all who push you out of the way. When the question of who is that man you've been seen with, she mentions your name and relates that you use to be a cop, somewhere in New Jersey. Is that what you want pal?”

“Of course not.”

“Then, even though it's none of my business if I was you I'd write her off. Look at it this way, if she really loved you she would be staying here in Nautilus Beach, not getting on the train heading for Pittsburgh.”

“She has her career.”

“So do you.”

“And to be honest with you, she's never mentioned that she loves me.”

“Then, she probably doesn’t.”

“All I know is I've got a lot of thinking to do.”

“Are you seeing her tonight?”

“We have reservations at the Glass Menagerie.”

“That might be the right place to break it off Wally.”

“Or, to get her to stay.”

“I give up. You're acting like you're back in high school again, a victim of puppy love. Do what you want. As for me? From now on I mind my own business.”

At eight five pm the maitre d' escorted Natasha and Robert to their table. Once seated Natasha looked over the dining room.

“What a beautiful decor. Do you come here often?”, she asked.

“Often enough to be able to get a reservation on busy nights here.” Wallace replied.

“Then I'm sure that you know someone.”

“The owner, Manny Hoffman.”

A waiter appeared and filled crystal glass with water, left menus with the couple and said that he would return when they were ready to order.

“Well since you say you frequent this place, what do you recommend?”, she asked.

“Since you have to watch your weight I suggest the Cornish

game hen. If you want to take a chance of maybe gaining eight ounces then I say go with the Lobster Newberg.”

“What are you having?”

“The Newberg.”

“Then I'll have the same.”

“Drink?”

“Ice tea.”

Wallace ordered for both of them but ordered coffee for himself.

As the talked the orchestra come on stage and began playing dance tunes.

“Oh how nice. You didn't tell me that there was dining and dancing.”

“Well, now that you know do you want to dance?”

“Yes.”

They walked out onto the dance floor and as they began to dance the female vocalist walked to the microphone and began to sing ,In The Still Of The Night.

“Cole Porter. Did you request them to play that song.”

“No, just the luck of the draw”, he said as he pulled her closer to him. As he did the vocalist sang, “Or will this dream of mine, fade out of sight? Like the moon growing dim, on the rim of the hill, in the chill, still of the night.”

With those words of the song a sadness came over him. Deep in his heart he knew that he was going to lose her.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Seven

Viktor Baranovsky

 

At the end of the morning rehearsal Robert Wallace made his way to the stage where Viktor Baranovsky stood reading the notes he had made during the ballet practice. “Mr. Baranovsky, could I speak with you please?”, asked the detective.

Baranovsky looked over the top rim of his eyeglasses and seeing Wallace said, “You? This must mean that it's my time in the barrel. Alright, lets get this over with. Wait there. I'll come to you. Take a seat over there by the steps leading to the stage.”

Wallace took a seat, leaving room so Baranovsky could sit next to him. After a few minutes Viktor sat down. “Alright, ask your questions officer,” he said.

“You know why I'm here so I won't go into that. Actually, I'm looking for information of Gabriela. I hope you can provide me with some information,” said Wallace.

“Like what?”

“Her reputation and your opinion of her as a dancer.”

“That's easy. Gabriela was one of the leading ballerina's in the world. My opinion? She was and for along time the ballerina in several of my ballet's”.

“Since you mentioned she was with you for a long time I've been told that she was thirty five years old. Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“I'll admit to not knowing anything about ballet and ballerina's, but the word is that thirty five is considered old for a ballerina.”

“That's true, but if the dancer has an exceptional talent as did Gabriela, then age is not a factor.”

“I see. What else can you tell me? Where was she from and was she married?”

“Gabriela was born in Berlin, Germany in 1937. Being Jews the family got out of the country after Hitler came to power and the persecution of Jews began. They went first to Canada then made their way to New York. Her father was a diamond cutter and found employment in the diamond district in Manhattan. Gabriela's mother, Elisheva was a stay at home housewife and kept a kosher home, but all of her life had wanted to be a dancer. As a result she pushed her daughter, Gabriela to pursue a career as a ballerina.

The young girl took dance lessons at a small dance studio. There, her talent was discovered and soon she was a student at the American School of Ballet in New York. Like most dancers she auditioned and was accepted as a member of the cast in several off Broadway shows. In one such show she met and married a male dancer in the troupe?”

“Interesting. Do you happen to know his name?”

“Yes, Viktor Baranovsky.”

“Gabriela is your wife?”

“She was my wife. We divorced several years ago.”

“I won't ask why.”

“There is no secret. My dance career was very short. I saw the merit of directing a ballet as more lucrative financially opposed to dancing in ballet.”

“So I gather that when you formed your own company your wife was the ballerina.”

“Yes, and that's when the marriage began to unravel. It's not easy to critique someone that your married to in front of other members of the cast. Little by little the love we had for each other just vanished.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't be. Both of us went on to have excellent careers, hers as a dancer, me as a choreographer.”

“Right about here I have to get personal.”

“Ask. I have nothing to fear.”

“The question is, do you have an insurance policy on Gabriela?”

“Yes.”

“With who and what is the face value?”

“It's with Lloyds of London for five hundred thousand dollars.”

“Why Lloyds and not an American company?”

“The premium payments were much more inexpensive with Lloyds. Now, let me also tell you that Gabriela had the same kind of policy on me.”

“Why?”

“Strictly business. With her death her insurance would give me funds to continue with the ballet company. With my death she could continue by hiring a new choreographer.”

“Then I assume that upon your death she would have inherited the ballet company.”

“Only during the time of our marriage. The divorce resulted in her giving up her share of the company.”

“And she agreed to that?”

“Yes, she still had stock in the show so she was still financially secure.”

“So she continued to dance for you.”

“Yes, for me it was an excellent situation. When she danced she captivated the audience. People bought tickets and the stock went up. I had a headliner ballerina and she had her name in lights and in the art sections of newspapers and magazines.”

“You mention her name in lights. Was Brunsdorff her maiden name?”

“Yes, but it's not unusual for someone to prefer her own name. Perhaps she didn't want to known as my protege.”

“Do you have any idea who wanted her dead.”

“No.”

“Unfortunately, that half a million dollar life insurance policy could label you as a suspect.”

“I agree, but I'm sure right now you have other suspects in mind, otherwise you wouldn't be questioning me.”

“Perhaps.”

“If that's the case, have you listed Natasha as a suspect?,”asked Viktor.

“I'm assuming you mention her because she had a lot to gain with Gabriela's death.”

“Yes, of course.”

“I've looked at her. The fact that she was dancing her solo

places her on the stage and not in Gabriela's dressing room. Right now our opinion is that it was at that time an overdose of Lanoxin was deliberately put in Gabriela's drinking water.”

“I'm no detective, but one might consider that you might make excuses for Natasha. After all, it's no secret that you two are now lovers.”

“That may be true, but I don't have to make excuses for her. As I mentioned, she couldn't have been two places at once.”

“If you say so. Do you have any more questions? As it is I'm missing lunch.”

“Only one other question. Natasha has been acting as if something or someone was bothering her. Do you know anything that might be the cause of her stress?”

“No, it's not the dance routine. She's handling all of her procedures very well. You might ask her agent. It is possible that it's business related.”.

“You mean Harry Brummel.”

“Yes.”

“Thank you Mr. Baranovsky. Good luck with the rest of your tour here.”

“You're welcome. Let me know if you make any more progress in your case,” said Viktor as he walked away.

***********

“Hey! Hey! Where are you?” Mary Wallace asked her husband.

Her loud voice brought Robert out of his reverie and he blinked, then looked at her. “What? What's the matter?”, he asked.

“You're daydreaming again. I asked you what you wanted for dinner.”

“Oh. Whatever is easier for you.”

“In that case we eat out, but since that's not going to happen what would you like?”

“I don't care.”

“Fine. Now that we've settled that question I'll let you go back to La La land.”

“I'm just thinking about an old case I worked.”

“What else is new? While you're rehashing old memories I'll get supper ready, said Mary as she got up from her desk and went to the kitchen.

Wallace closed his eyes. Again in his mind he saw Natasha. She was on stage rehearsing with Alexey. When she leaped, it seemed that she hung in the air suspended, then gracefully ascended. She twirled and spun, danced on her toes and performed pirouette's flawlessly. If Viktor Baranovsky had any complaints it was about Alexey. “Show her! The ballet is called Sleeping Beauty not Prince Charming. You have your own solo. Stop hamming it up at her expense!,” Viktor had shouted.

When the rehearsal was finished Wallace walked up to the stage then stood looking up at Natasha. “Hello beautiful”, he had said.

“Aren't you supposed to be working?”, she asked.

“I am working. When you're all refreshed and dressed and we can get out of here there are some questions I want to ask you”.

“More questions? Don't you ever stop?”

“Not until I have all the answers.”

“Alright, wait for me. I have to shower and get dressed.”

“Can I wait in your dressing room?”

“Sure. Margaret can keep you company.”

Wallace left the stage area and walked down the narrow hallway that led to backstage and the dressing rooms. As he approached Natasha's room he could hear the chatter of the girl dancers in the large dressing room provided for them. He knocked lightly on Natasha's door. Margaret Helms answered the door an upon seeing Wallace said, “Hello Officer Wallace. Natasha's in the shower. She told me to make you comfortable. Is there anything I can get you?,”she asked.

“No Miss Helms. I'll just sit here and try to keep out of your way.”

“You won't be in my way. May I ask how your investigation is going?”

“Sure. It's going slow, very slow. Still, once in awhile something new comes along. I want to thank you again for you're co-operation.”

“Oh, you're welcome. Has anything turned up on the Lanoxin pills and the container?”

“No, for some reason Law enforcement laboratories seems to take forever in giving up results.”

“I see.”

“While you're here, do you mind if I ask you another question?”

“No, of course not”.

“Do you have any idea of how many people knew about Gabriela's heart condition and the fact that she took Lanoxin?”

“Any one that knew her. Everyone in the production. She would often either ask for it from me or take it out of her pocketbook. The odd thing about Gabriela was the fact that she was fastidious. Often she would refuse to dance with the male lead, The Danseur Noble, if you will, if she thought he was perspiring too much. When it came to her medication after opening and then closing the container she would wipe it all over with a tissue. She did it every time.”

“Really? Did she do it the last time you handed her the pills in the container?”

“I can't say exactly, but more than likely she did.”

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome. Now if you will excuse me I just heard Natasha turn off the shower.”

Back at the condominium Wallace unlocked the door, opened it and allowed Natasha to enter first. “Such a gentleman”, she said.

“Not really. There's always the possibility that an intruder might be inside waiting to attack me. This way if there is someone inside they get you instead of me.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“Well, how did it go today?,”

“Fine. Why?”

“Well, recently you've been under stress about something you won't tell me about. I was just wondering if you're still having the same problem.”

“Everything is fine Robert.”

“You're sure”.

“Yes, now leave it alone. What are we doing for dinner?”, she asked.

“I had Esmeralda to pick up dinner. It should be a whole baked chicken, potato salad and coleslaw and rolls. Does that meet your fancy?”

“Absolutely. I don't have to go out and I don't have to cook.”

“Will you help with the dishes?”

“No”, she answered with a giggle.

“I'll go make the coffee. Do you want me to heat the chicken in the oven?”he asked.

“No. Cold chicken is fine.”

“O.K. Now, you're sure that you're not under any stress”, he said from the kitchen.

“I am right now and it's you that's causing it.”

“And work is going well?'

“Lately Viktor is adding more and more Pas de deux and neither Alexsey or I can understand why.”

“You got me on that one dear. What the hell is Pas de deux?”

“Oh, I'm sorry. Pas de deux is couple dancing. In most cases it is to express to the audience the love and romance between the two dancers. Since Sleeping beauty is a ballet about the princess and prince, Viktor, since he is the choreographer decided to add more romance.”

“And you don't go for it?”

“Well, it does away with one of my solo's and the same thing happens to Alexsey.”

“I'm sure the three of you will work it out. Is that all that's bothering you?”

“No I do have one more problem.”

“What is it?”

“Can I move in here with you until the troupe leaves for Pittsburgh?”

Certainly. You didn't even have to ask. And, because I intend to make love to you tonight I'm not even going to ask why. It would just piss you off and get you out of the mood.”

The next morning back at headquarters Wallace sat at his desk going over statements and evidence reports. He looked up when a member of C.S.I. walked up to him and handed him a white, thick envelope. “What's this,” asked Wallace.

“A report from the F.B.I. we sent that frosted glass to them to see if they could find out anything more about the amount of Dioxin that might have been in the glass.”

“And?”

“And, they got the same results we did. Impossible to tell.”

“Then why are you giving this to me?”

“For your records champ. It also gets us off the hook just in case you or someone else thinks we're incompetent.”

“Anything on the fingerprints you guys found on the pill container and glass shards?”

“Not yet. When we hear something we'll let you know.”

“That's mighty nice of you.

“Hey, we aim to please.”

When the C.S.I. technician left the office, Stiles seated at his own desk asked, “What's new with you and the ballerina?”

“She's moving in with me,” Wallace answered.

“Why?'

“Why? Evidently because she wants to”

“Since you're a friend of mine I'm going to tell you a story.

Once upon a time there was a red fox. This fox considered himself to be very handsome. One of his greatest attributes was his beautiful, long, red tail. One day he decided to take a short cut and he crossed the railroad tracks. Instead of going all the way across he stopped to admire his tail. As he did that a locomotive came by and cut off part of his beautiful tail. Now, the fox was very upset. He couldn't sleep. He couldn't eat. He missed the part of the beautiful tail. He decided to go look for it on the railroad tracks. As he looked and sniffed, searching for the part of his tail another locomotive came along and cut off his head. Now, the moral of this story is, don't lose your head over a piece of tail. Do you get the message?”

“Did anyone ever tell you that you're a pain in the ass?”,asked Wallace.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Eight

Lester Cummings

 

Detective Robert Wallace sat calmly in a hardwood chair listening to Chief William Connors more or less berate Sergeant John Ackerman. “Would you kindly tell me not only how long this investigation has been going on, but also just how long before you at least provide me with a suspect?” Right now I've got the press, television, the Chamber of Commerce and a bunch of pain in the ass concerned citizens on my ass demanding

information and results.”

“Chief, we can't rush things. We have evidence that a homicide did take place and we have several suspects. We can't name them at this time because we still need collaborating evidence that one of them committed the crime. If I may, I suggest that it is better to take our time, as we are doing right now, opposed to making a mistake that will result in a law suite,” Said Ackerman.

“Time.? You mention time. It's going on eight weeks and you and your squad have produced nothing except reports on a ream of paper that tells me nothing. Are you the lead detective in this case?”, asked Connors looking at Wallace.

“Yes sir.”

“And just what do you have to say?”,asked the Chief.

“Sergeant Ackerman more or less told you what's going on with the case. As for me, I'm still waiting for lab reports and fingerprint identification to come in from the F.B.I. Once we have those hopefully we can then proceed in the investigation. Maybe, you as Chief can get the Federal Bureau Of Investigation

to kindly answer our requests,” said Wallace sarcastically.

“Be careful Wallace. I don't like your attitude. You're on the brink of insubordination.,” said the Chief.

At three pm on a Friday afternoon the telephone on Wallace's desk rang. He answered it, “Major Crime Squad, Detective Wallace.”

“Doctor Edwards here. I'm taking you up on your invitation to go fishing. I purchased that bamboo stick you suggested. Now what?”

“What test line did you attach to it?”asked Wallace.

“None yet. I was thinking twenty pound test should do the job.”

“No, you should go with fifty pound test.”

“Fifty? Just how big do these Tautog get?”

“The line test is not for the fish. It's in case you get snagged around the jetty rocks. Fifty pound allows you to muscle out of a snag.”

“I see. Anyway, just when in hell are we going to fish?” asked the pathologist.

“Wait a minute. Let me look at the tide chart.” Wallace opened the center desk drawer and removed the tide chart for the county. “The outgoing tide tomorrow is around nine in the morning. If you can be ready at eight, I''ll take a look at your rig and if everything goes right we can be on the jetty just when the tide changes.”

“I'll be ready. Do you know where I live?”

“Yes.”

The next morning Doctor Manfred Edwards stood on the beach and watched Robert Wallace who rested on one, wet, knee as he dug sand fleas out of the wet sand. One by one as he caught them he dropped them into a bucket that contained three inches of wet sand. As the small crustaceans dropped into the bucket they quickly dug their way to the bottom of the bucket sand hiding out of sight. When he had approximately three dozen that would be used for bait he stood up and said, “Well, that takes care of the bait. Now, let's head for the rocks.”.

“You call those things sand fleas” They don't look like a flea to me”, said Edwards.

“Actually, they're Mole Crabs, but most people call them “sand fleas”. They're the best bait for Tog,” Wallace explained.

“We'll see”, Edwards uttered as he climbed upon the rock jetty that jutted out into the ocean inlet. “How come you're not going to fish?” asked the doctor.

“I'm acting as your guide. Besides, I've been catching Tog ever since I was a kid. Like I've told you. They hit hard and fight hard, but in order to eat them it's recommended that you skin them and boil them. Some call them the poor man's lobster. Anyway, I usually just caught them and threw them back into the water.”

“And you're sure this old spark plug is heavy enough to get my baited hook down to where their feeding?”

“Certainly.”

“Well, if you say so. Here goes nothing', said Edwards as he swung the line out into the water. Thirty seconds after his cast a fish struck, taking the bait and began fighting hard to both dispel the hook in its mouth and get off of the line that was gradually pulling it to the surface.

“Son of a bitch!”, said Edwards with a large grin on his face.

By noon that day Doctor Edwards had caught twelve fish each one averaging one to three pounds. On the advice of Wallace he tossed each one back into the water.

As they walked back to the Ford, Granada Edwards said,

“Well, you know your fishing spots. Thank you. I had a nice time. I hope we can do it again some time. Now, after you get me home how about staying for a sandwich and beer?”

“I'll take a sandwich with a cup of coffee?,” Wallace replied.

“I use instant”, said Doc Edwards.

“No problem.”

Shortly after arriving at the home of Doctor Manfred Edwards the pathologist filled a tea kettle half full with water and placed it on a high flame burner of the gas stove. He then went to the cupboard, then the refrigerator and returned to the table where Wallace sat patiently. “Your water will be ready in a couple of minutes”, he said to Robert.

“I'm in no hurry. Sit down and enjoy your beer,” Wallace replied.

“I think I will, now that you mentioned it. How's your investigation going?”

“Right now it's at a dead end.”

“Any suspects?”

“More than I need. Do you have anything to add since your examination of the body?”

“No, the cause of death is still an overdose of dioxin or if you prefer, Lanoxin. Shit! I no sooner sit down and the damn kettle starts to whistle,” said Edwards as he got up from the table.

Wallace twisted the cap off of the jar of instant coffee and took a teaspoon full, placing the granule’s in a coffee cup. He then moved out of the way of Edwards who filled the cup with hot water. “Do you take cream? The sugar is right here on the table.”

“No, black is fine. I could use a couple slices of bread.”

“Oh, yeah, here. There's ham and cheese also bologna. Do you want mustard?”

“I could use some.”

“Sure, make me get up again.”

“Hey, you mentioned mustard.”

“Just means I got a big mouth. Here”, said Edwards as he sat down again. “So, to continue our conversation about your investigation, lately it seems the press has been on the police departments ass, saying that nothing either is or has been done.

What do you say about that?”

“Not too much. I don't think too highly when it comes to newspaper reporters.”

“But, you yourself just said that your investigation is at a stand still.”

“Agreed, but I said it to you. That information is not for the public.”

“Well, I hope something turns up for you.”

“Thanks.”

Later, Wallace walked through the front entrance doors of the condominium complex. Andy Maclin, the door man greeted him. “Mr. Wallace. There was a man here this morning trying to get upstairs to your unit. I told him that you weren't in and that no one was on the list of visitors for you. He refused to give me his name and still insisted that he was going upstairs. I had to threaten him, telling him that f he didn't leave, I'd call the police. He finally left. I hope I did the right thing.”

“You did Andy. What did this guy look like?”

“A white guy, about thirty years old, maybe five foot nine or ten. He had dark brown hair, brown eyes. He was also kind of thin, wiry like. He was wearing a blue windbreaker, blue jeans and white athletic shoes.”

“That doesn't sound like anyone I know. Good job. If he comes back buzz me”.

“Yes sir.”

Wallace took the elevator to the sixth floor, stepped out and walked to his front door and unlocked it. Once inside he walked into his combination den and living room. Natasha came to him and on tip toe kissed him on the lips. “Did your doctor friend catch any fish?”, she asked.

“Yeah, I think he enjoyed himself. He caught about twelve fish.”

“Oh, good.”

“Listen, Andy, the doorman stopped me on my way in and told me that some guy was trying to get up here to this unit. He said the guys was white, thin and about thirty years old. Did you hear anything in the hallways or fire escape?”

Natasha began shaking. “No, no, I haven't seen or heard anything”. she said in a low voice, almost a whisper.

“Why are you shaking?”,asked Wallace.

“Cold. It's cold in here,” she answered.

“If you say so. What have you been doing all morning?”,he asked.

“Mostly resting. I want to be at my best tonight.”

“Is it still going on at eight o'clock?”

“Yes and I want you to be backstage tonight. I promise I'll change quickly and we can come home?”

“Why the sudden change? I always wait for you at the elevator that goes down to the garage.”

“I want you to watch me dance. You'll be my good luck charm.”

“You don't need luck. You're good and you know it.”

“Robert I want you back stage. Tell me that you'll be back stage.”

“Alright. If it means that much to you I'll be there, but I still have the feeling that you're hiding something from me.”

That evening Wallace stood near one wing of the stage in a place where he could see the show and in particular Natasha. She stood next to Margaret Helms. She took a sip of water and then turned her head looking for Robert. When she saw him she waved. Robert gave her a thumbs up and when the musical cue came she danced out onto the stage on her toes. As usual she wore the pink dress and as usual she moved with a delicate grace. Up on tip toes she danced slowly, each step in time with the violin that was providing the music for this part of her choreography.

Robert took his eyes off of Natasha and focused on Viktor. It appeared that Viktor Baranovsky was very happy at this point in the act because he had a large smile on his face. Satisfied that she was doing well, Wallace decided to leave the area and have a cigarette. He turned and left the stage area and entered the hallway containing the dressing rooms. When he did he saw a figure near Natasha's room. “Hey! Hold it! Police!”, he said in a loud voice. The figure now seen by Wallace as a man, stopped.

“I'm the janitor. I just wanted to see if the trash needed emptying”, said the man.

Oh. It's you, Lou Crawford. Now I recognize you.”

“Yeah, that's me. Hey, did you find what you were looking for in the dumpster?”

“Yes I did. I want to thank you for telling me about where the trash was kept until collection day,” said Wallace.

“Glad to help. Well, nice seeing you again. I've got work to do. See you're still smoking in the hallway. I won't tell anyone.”

Wallace lit a cigarette and as he smoked it he heard the violin tempo increase and now familiar with the ballet and the accompanying music he knew that at that moment Natasha was dancing on her toes and was about to do a pirouette. “No wonder her feet hurt at times”, he thought to himself. He walked back and into the stage wing just in time to hear the thunderous applause given to her by the audience.

On the ride home Wallace looked over at her and asked, “Are you tired?”

“Yes, but it's a god tired, if you know what I mean,” she replied.

“I know the feeling. It's as if you put everything you had into whatever you were doing and ended up with good results, so the effort was worth it.”

“Did you like the performance?”, she asked.

“Certainly. Mostly I liked the ballerina. Are you hungry? We can go someplace if you want.”

“I want to go home, change into just panties and a sweat shirt, sip a small glass of wine, snuggle together on the couch and ask you if you love me.”

“You have to ask?”

“Not really, but I like it when you say it.”

“And, my reward for loving you is having you leave for Pittsburgh.”

“Now don't start Robert. It's no different then if I was someone in a profession that necessitated traveling and being away from home for long periods at a time. Just because I'll be away doesn’t mean I'm not thinking of you, worrying about you, hoping your safe out there on the street.”

“Just how long do I have to wait until you come back to me to stay”

“I can't say. You have goals in life. So do I. You've told me that you hope to make Captain one day. I hope someday to dance in the Moscow Ballet Company. After that, who knows?”

“That might mean ten or twelve years.”

“We're both young. We have time to wait. Speaking of time, we're wasting it. Hold me Robert, hold me.”

The next morning Wallace drove to the Convention Center and after a quick kiss watched Natasha walk inside where she would rehearse for the major part of the day. He put the car in drive and headed for his office. When he got there he sat down with Stiles and the two of them had their traditional morning coffee and doughnut.

“They didn't have lemon this morning. I got you a jelly doughnut,” said Stiles.

“It's not the same, but it will do. Anything new?”,asked Wallace.

“C.S.I. delivered an envelope. I put it on your desk.”

“It can wait,” Wallace replied.

“Are you going to any Eagles games this year?” asked Stiles.

“No, I don't see an improvement. Ed Kyayat was a great player, but so far not so good as a coach. It could be that he doesn’t have the players. I'll watch them on T.V..”

Wallace took a mouthful of the last dregs of coffee in the Styrofoam cup, wadded up the plastic wrap the he had held in order to eat the doughnut, then tossed them both into the wastepaper basket next to his desk. Once he got comfortable in his chair he reached for the manila envelope that Stiles had put on his desk top and read, noticing that it was from the F.B.I.

After opening the envelope he removed two sheets of paper and began to read the print. “Well, well, well,” he said.

“What do you have?”, asked Stiles.

“The report on the fingerprints we lifted from the pill container.”

“And?”

“What they say is and I'll read it to you, “The prints submitted by your agency, those being a left thumb print found on one side of a pill container along with a print left by the left index finger on one side of a pill container were found to be consistent and clear. Also the latent print identified as the right thumb found on the pill box lid contained enough loops and whirls to identify the subject. Said fingerprints match those of one, Lester Cummings, Chicago, Illinois arrested May 15, 1970. Charge Assault and Battery.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Nine

Chicago

 

A beam of sunlight filtered through the Venetian blinds hung in the bedroom window. The light touched Robert's face gently waking him. After opening his eyes he blinked then turned his head and looked at Natasha asleep next to him. He moved slowly not wanting to wake her. To him he thought that she needed her rest. He had watched her exert a lot of energy in her dance routines last night. Reaching for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter he placed a cigarette between his lips, lit it, inhaled, exhaled and fought not to cough with his first drag in the morning. As he looked at her he thought, “I wonder what she will want to do today? Hopefully she'll just want to stay here and rest. Tomorrow it's back to the grind for both of us. Me at headquarters, her at rehearsal.” his thoughts were interrupted by a light tapping on the bedroom door. “Yes?” he said. The sound of his voice making Natasha stir.

“Robert? Can you tell me what you and the young lady would like for breakfast?,” asked Esmeralda.

Natasha opened her eyes and after a few seconds she smiled at him and said, “Good morning.”

“Well hello. Esmeralda would like to know what you would like for breakfast,” said Wallace.

“Toast and coffee is fine with me”, she said in an sleepy, almost whisper.

“She'll have toast and coffee. You can give me the same, but with a couple of scrambled eggs and orange juice. Do you want orange juice?” he asked Natasha who nodded her head. “Make that two orange juice”, said Robert. Then he turned his attention back to her. To him she was beautiful. When she danced false eyelashes, eyeliner and mascara highlighted her eyes. She had told him that highlighting the eyes was necessary in order for those in the back of the audience to be able to see the eyes of the dancers who were under the bright stage lights. He also noticed that the male dancers wore makeup. Now, she lay next to him with just her natural appearance. Dark eyes looked up at him. The pixie hair style in place even though she had turned over several times during the night in her sleep. As she watched him she saw the sudden change of expression on his face, a sad look.

“What's wrong?,” she asked.

“Nothing, except in a few more days, you'll be gone.”

“Please Robert, don't start that again.”

“Hey, I'm sorry for wanting you to stay.”Natasha slid out of the bed and walked into the bedroom. When she did Wallace snubbed the cigarette butt in the ashtray got up and put on a pair of walking shorts and a polo shirt. Dressed, he walked barefoot into the kitchen. “Good morning Esmeralda. How's the family?”, he asked.

“Just fine Robert. Do you want your coffee now, or you waiting for Natasha?”

“You know me and coffee. Now isn't soon enough.”

“You got any laundry for me to do today?, Esmeralda asked.

“I have some, but it can wait if you want to put it off.”

“No sense puttin off what I can do today. Sides, it's Sunday. Laundry room practically empty of Sundays. How about Natasha she got things needing washing?”

“I don't know you'll have to ask her.”

“Ask me what?” said Natasha as she walked into the kitchen.

“I was just asking Robert if you had any laundry that needed doin”, Esmeralda replied.

“Thank you no. What little I do have Margaret can do for me, but I appreciate your offer.”

“Alright, now you ready to eat girl?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Itty bitty thing like you got to eat. It's a wonder you can dance, twirl, and leap, little and as thin as you be. How bout I fix you some real food? Toast and coffee ain't much if you ask me.”, said Esmeralda.

Natasha laughed. “Thank you, but that's what I'm use to having in the morning”, she replied.

“Suit yourself. While you two eat breakfast I'll gather up your dirty clothes. Robert? You put everything in the hamper?”

“Don't I always?, he asked.

“No. Most the time I find things in the bed, under the bed, on the nightstand or hanging on the side of the bathtub,”

Esmeralda answered.

Natasha grinned. “So the truth comes out, when I'm not here, you're a slob,” she said.

“But, notice how you've changed me. Now, I'm a neat freak,” Wallace replied.

“Honey? You tell that neat freak sittin there lying to you that I can't find one black sock. That's how neat he be. Can't even keep his socks together,” Esmeralda called from the bedroom.

“Seems to me that Esmeralda knows you very well,” said Natasha.

“She cooks, cleans, does the laundry and changes the linen. It's like having a wife, but with no sex,” Robert replied.

“Good thing for you too, ain't no way you could keep up with me”, said Esmeralda as she walked to the front door carrying the dirty laundry.

After finishing his eggs Wallace got up from the table and poured himself another cup of coffee. Then he stood looking at her with the coffee cup in his hand.

“What now?”, she asked.

“Nothing. Do you want to have your coffee in the den?”

“Sure, lead the way.”

After entering the den Natasha placed her cup of coffee on a coaster she had placed on the end table, then sat on the couch, tucking her bare legs under her. Looking at Robert she said, “Well, I know there's something you want to talk about.”

“Not really. I would like to know where you will be staying while the show is in Pittsburgh.”

“I really don't know. Viktor always selects the place that offers him the best deal. The hotel has to accommodate not only the dance troupe, but also the orchestra.”

“Where will the show play?”

“The Pittsburgh Ballet Theater. It's on Liberty Avenue, I believe. Why? Are you planning to come to Pittsburgh?”

“You never know. So, you know the street.”

“I danced there before becoming Gabriela's understudy. I was one of several girls in Geisle. Viktor was pleased with me and Gabriela approved and the rest you know. Here I am.”

“How does Viktor manage to get everything he needs from city to city?”

“You must mean the stage settings. I understand that he has a warehouse somewhere in New York where he keeps those stored. Now in the case of the show here, Sleeping Beauty, he'll ship everything to Pittsburgh by truck. When we head for Buffalo another truck will haul the sets for the Nutcracker.”

“Reminds one of a traveling circus.”

“Sometimes it seems like it is,” said Natasha as she got up off of the couch. She walked to the glass paneled door that led out onto the balcony and looked out at the slow, moving surf. “The ocean appears gray and cold this morning”, she said.

“It's gray because the water reflects the color of the sky. This morning it's overcast. It looks cold because it's autumn. The water is cold,” Wallace explained.

“I'll miss seeing the ocean, “she said, sadly.”

“Not as much as I'll miss you”, he replied.

“You'll get over it,” she responded.

“I noticed that you said that you'll miss the ocean, you didn't mention missing me.”

“Of course I will. Both of us will think of each other from time to time, but our work and our careers should ease the situation. Don't you think?”

“Right now I don't know what to think.”

“Well, why don't you think of taking me in your arms and holding me, instead of sitting there in a gloomy mood.”

*****************

Back at headquarters on Monday morning Wallace opened his locked desk drawer and removed the Gabriela Brunsdorff file. He opened the manila cover, glanced at his latest, submitted report and reached for the telephone. With one finger he pushed O.

“Operator.”

“Yes operator, I need to contact the headquarters of the Chicago Police Department. Unfortunately I don't have the number. Could you help me?.”Wallace asked.

“One moment please.”

Three minutes later the operator came on line. “The number you are requesting is, area code 312. The number is 746-8350. Would you like me to place a call?”

“Yes please.”

After three rings a female voice came on line. “Chicago Police Department. How may I help you?”

“This is Detective Robert Wallace of the Nautilus Beach Police Department in New Jersey. I'd like to speak to the Commanding Officer of the Detective Division, please.”

“One moment please.” Wallace was put on hold and he sat listening to some old tune that he couldn't identify. Finally a man came on line. “Captain Llewellyn.”

“Captain. This is Detective Robert Wallace of the Nautilus Beach Police Department in New Jersey. Currently I'm investigating a homicide that happened in our city. Right now I have reason to believe that a suspect, one Lester Cummings was arrested in your city in 1970, May 15.The information I have is that the charge by your department was for assault and battery. What I'm calling for is I'd like to know the particulars in that arrest, such as the victim and or complainant and if possible the decision of the court, if any.”

“I see. You do know that the Chicago Police Department is made up of many precincts?”asked Llewellyn.

“Yes sir, I do. I don't expect you to be able to reach out and immediately touch the file containing the information I need.”

“Of course, you know I also need verification of who you are and who you represent. After all, we are talking on a telephone. I have your name. I will turn you over to my secretary. Give her your name, rank, and the address of your department. Give me a few days to trace the information you need. Anything else?”

“Yes sir. I need your first name for my report.”

“It's Roger.”

“Thank you sir.”

When Wallace got off of the telephone Frank Stiles asked, What did Chicago have to say?”

“They're looking into it. Hopefully we'll hear something in a day or two,” said Wallace.

“What now?,asked Frank.

“Time to close a couple of lose ends. I'll be at the Convention Center if anyone needs me.”

“Don't tell me that you're going to watch rehearsal again.”

“No, I want to talk to Lou Crawford.”

“Who's he?”

“A janitor at the Center. He might have something to say.

The area he's assigned to is near the dressing rooms. Maybe, just maybe he saw something the night Gabriela was killed.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“No Frank. There's no need for both of us to talk to him.”

“O.K.”

Wallace drove the unmarked, black, Chrysler sedan through light traffic as he headed for the Convention Center located on the boardwalk. Now, late October the majority of the tourist trade was gone, only a handful remained and they were those who were members of small convention.

He drove down the incline that led to the parking garage constructed under the Center. Since there was plenty of parking spaces he chose one close to the elevator. After parking and locking the car he rode the elevator to the main floor lobby. When the elevator car stopped and the doors opened he stepped off and began walking towards the office of the Chief Of Security. As he did he heard the muffled sounds of the ballet orchestra playing. By now he knew which act they were dancing to just by the sound of the music. At that moment they were rehearsing Act Three. He walked up to the office door, knocked once and entered. Ed Kogan, a retired Nautilus Beach Uniformed Sergeant had taken the job as Chief of Security. He looked up from one of the monitors he had been watching and said, “Wally, what the hell are you doing here? I haven't seen you for some time. You must want something,” said Kogan.

“You're right. You have a janitor working here by the name of Louis Crawford. If you can tell me where he is, I'd like to talk to him.”

“Who ever told you that this Crawford guy works as a janitor here, they're full of shit. We don't have janitors. The city leases with a cleaning company. If this Crawford guy worked for them, you'll have to talk to their supervisors.”

“Damn! Do you happen to know which cleaning company was hired?”

“No, but the city purchasing agent would know. You'll have to talk to her.”

“Fine. I just noticed something. When did the Convention Center install security monitors?, asked Wallace.

“About this time last year. Seems they got a grant of some kind.”

“Do you keep the recorded tapes?”

“Not usually, but sometimes. Guys on the night shift have a habit of tuning into a porn channel that mysteriously can be picked up with the same signal we use. They asked me not to report it.”

“Do you tape over?”

“Sure, the city only gives me so many tapes a year.”

“Do you have a camera set up back stage, near the dressing rooms?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact one of my guards had a camera installed in the dressing room used by the girl chorus dancers. I had that taken out. All I needed was a civil suit for the city, plus

my ass would have been in a sling.”

“Do you date the recording?”

“The machine does it automatically, date and time.”

“I don't have time right now, but I'd like to look for a tape recorded on or about September eleven or twelfth.”

“I doubt if we still have that tape, but I'll look for it. If I find it, I'll give you a call.”

“Thanks Ed. Can I use you telephone? I want to call the Purchasing Agent.”

“Sure go ahead.”

Thirty five minutes later Wallace parked the unmarked radio car in front of Gorman's Janitorial Service And Supply.

When he walked inside he was met by a woman with gray hair and wearing eyeglasses. “May I help you?” she asked.

“Yes. I'm Detective Wallace, Nautilus Beach Police. Are you the proprietor?”, he said showing bade abd I.D..

“Yes I am. What's on your mind?”

“I'm looking for an employee of yours, a Louis Crawford. I was wondering if you could tell me where I can find him.”

“I don't have anyone by that name working for me. Sorry.

“That's odd. I spoke to a man who said he was one of the janitors at the Convention Center. He told me his name was Louis Crawford.”
“That might be, but he's not one of mine. How as he dressed?”

“Grey coveralls, black baseball cap, tennis shoes.”

“My crew wear white coveralls. My logo, Gorman's Janitorial Service is embroidered on the back with blue letters.”

“I see. Well, thank you.”

“You're welcome

At four fifty pm Wallace unlocked the door to the condominium and went inside. When he did he saw Natasha's suitcase and travel bag in the hallway. Walking into the den he saw her standing, looking out through the pane glass door at the ocean. She turned at looked him. “Hi,” she said.

“Hello. I see you've packed,” he replied.

“Yes. I'm afraid I'll have to spend tonight at the hotel. That way I can leave with the troupe.”

“Well, if you have to, you have to. I'll drive you there of course.”

“Thank you.”

“No need to thank me. Do you have time to eat something?”

“I'm not hungry.”

“Neither am I. Right now, I don't have much of an appetite. I'm going to ask you one more time to stay.”

“Please don't. Leaving is hard enough. I don't need you adding to it.”

“Well, should you change your mind where-ever you are I'll come and get you. I love you Natasha.”

“I know you do. Robert, this is getting more difficult by the minute. Can we go to the hotel now?”

“Yes, if that's what you want.”

During the drive to the Trinidad Hotel neither one of them spoke a word. Wallace turned into the portico allowing room for other vehicles. Then he turned to her. “Well, I guess this is it. This time tomorrow you'll be in Pittsburgh.”

“Yes. Thank you for everything Robert. I'll miss you, but like I've said there's the telephone, mail and don't forget, airlines. Now, kiss me good by,” she said.

He took her in his arms and kissed her not wanting to let go. He released her, looked at her one more time then opened the car door and got out to get her luggage. As he did. Natasha walked slowly into the hotel lobby not looking back. Wallace handed the suitcase and travel bag to a bellman who stood waiting.

Robert got back in the sedan, started the engine and then drove off, heading back to a now empty apartment.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Ten

Pittsburgh

 

On Monday, November 6, 1972 at 10:30 am Detective Robert Wallace received a telephone call from Detective Sergeant Edward Cassidy. Captain Llewellyn told me to contact you in reference to an arrest I made a couple of years ago. The guy was Lester Cummings. If you give me your departments fax number I can send you a copy of the entire case,” said Cassidy.

“That would be great the number is 609-555-3327. While I got you on the line can you brief me on the case?”, asked Wallace.

“ Sure, it was during the month of May, 1970. There was an argument between two lovers. The argument got heated and Cummings struck the victim several times. She was treated at the emergency room where she made a complaint. The charge was originally Atrocious Assault and Battery, However, in court the judge downgraded to charge to simple assault and battery.

Cummings was found guilty, fined a hundred dollars and given thirty days in the county jail, but that was reascended. He was also ordered to stay away from the victim.”

“I see. This Cummings guy. What's his occupation?”

“At the time I arrested him he was a dancer.”

“What kind of a dancer?”

“I believe it was ballet, but I'm not certain.

“And, what is the name of the complainant?”

“Helen Dubcek.”

“What can you tell me about her?”

“It seems to me that she was a dancer in some ballet company. I recall that her name popped up once in awhile complaining about being stalked by Cummings. As far as I know he was never busted for stalking or any other charge. Not by us anyway. That's about it.”

“Well, that's more than I had yesterday. Thanks for calling,” said Wallace.

“No problem, I'll fax you the copy of the file”.

“Thanks again.”

After he hung up the telephone, He opened the Brunsdorff file and seeing the telephone for the Harry Brummel Agency dialed the number then waited.

“Brummel Agency, this is Ann. How may I help you?”

“This is Detective Robert Wallace. Mr. Brummel knows who I am. If he's in. I want to speak to him”.

“One moment please.”

Three minutes later Brummel came on the line. “Officer Wallace. What can I do for you?”

“Tell me what you know about Helen Dubcek.”

“So, you found out her real, first name.”

“That and a few other things. Why does she go by Natasha.”

“That's show business. The name Helen is not as attention getting as is the name Natasha. The girl comes from Polish stock , so the last name Dubcek can be seen by ballet fans as either Russian or Eastern European. Add the first name, Natasha and the audiences begin to believe that the young woman they watch dancing is on loan from the Moscow Ballet Company. Things like that sell tickets. It happens all the time. Cary Grant's real name was Archibald Leach.”

“I see. I have information that she was being stalked. The first time was in Chicago. What can you tell me about it?”

“All I can tell you is some guy named Lester is infatuated with Natasha. They went together for awhile then Natasha broke it off when she was hired to dance for Baranovsky. Evidently, the guy became possessive to the point that he made demands. When she rejected him he went berserk and beat her up. She filed a complaint. The guy was arrested. After that according to her he's been stalking her ever since.”

` “I see. Well thank you for the information.”

“You're welcome. Are you any closer to solving Gabriela's murder.”

“Yes sir, we're almost ready to wrap it up.”

Right after Wallace hung up his telephone it rang. “Major Crime Squad, Detective Wallace”, he said.

“Wally? Ed Kogan. I took a look at our video tapes. I might have something you might want ot take a look at.”

“What is it?”

“I go a tape dated September ninth. On it there appears to be a guy hanging around the ballerina's dressing room. You can't make out the face, but he's dressed in coveralls and wearing a baseball cap.”

“Can I have it?”

“Sure. Tell you what. Have a radio car crew stop and pick it up. When you're finished. Give it back.”

“It might be awhile.”

“I don't care. Take your time with it.”

“Thanks Ed.”

“You're welcome. Talk to you later.”

One hour later Frank Stiles placed the recorded tape in the VCR then pushed the PLAY button. When the tape began to play there was a few seconds of some pornography movie which quickly changed into a ghostly, black and white recording of the Convention Center's Ballroom hallway outside of the dressing rooms. As the two detectives watched, the figure of a man appeared. The baseball cap on his head was pulled down low hiding most of his face. He wore what could be described as coveralls. The man stopped outside of the door, looked around, turned the doorknob and when the door opened he entered. the room.

“Stop!”, said Wallace to Stiles.

“Stiles stopped the tape from playing. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing. Let me write down the time he entered the dressing room. The tape says September 9, 1972, 20:46. O.K.

Start it up again.”

“The tape playing again revealed nothing but a long, empty, hallway. Then the figure of the man came into view as he came out of the room with his back to the security camera.The time on the tape was 20:51.

“Well, that was a waste of time. We didn't get a look at his face going into the room or coming out”, said Stiles.

“I don't need to see his face. That's Lester Cummings, alias Louis Crawford.”

“Now what?”“I want you to go to the court have the judge issue an arrest warrant for Lester Cummings, charge murder. While you're doing that I'll contact the Pittsburgh P.D. after I find out what airlines we'll be on and our flight number.”

“You think this guy's in Pittsburgh?”, asked Stiles.

“Yep. Think about it. So far, he's stalked Natasha Dubcek everywhere she's been, starting in Chicago and the last time in Nautilus Beach. He's obsessed with her. Either she submits to him or I'm willing to bet he'll kill her.”

*****************

Wallace and Stiles walked together through the wide open area of Concourse D in the Pittsburgh Airport. They hadn't gone far when Robert spotted two men, both wearing dark sunglasses.

“There's our ride,” said Wallace.

When they walked up to the two men Wallace said, “Which one of you is Sergeant Harris?”

“I am. You must be Wallace, correct?”

“Yes. Let me introduce you to my partner. This is Frank Stiles.”, said Wallace.

“And, this ugly bastard is my partner, Sergeant Harry Benson,” said Harris.

After a round of handshakes the four men headed for the escalator.

When they arrived at street level Sergeant Harris led the way to the unmarked police car. Once all four men were inside Harris turned to Wallace who was sitting in the back seat. “I'm sure everything is in order, but if you don't mind I'd like to see your arrest warrant.”

“No problem”, Wallace responded as he reached into the inside packet of his blue sports coat. He removed it and handed it to Harris.

“Harris read it and gave it back. “We have Cummings in custody. We haven't charged him yet. I've got a detective accusing him of all kinds of bullshit charges which I'm sure he's denying. However, it killed time while we were picking you two up. Now, when we get there we'll turn him over to you. I hope you don't mind if we observe. You're in our jurisdiction you know.”

“How did you get him so fast?”, asked Stiles.

“From what was told to me on the telephone we took a guess and figured he would be in a location close to the Pittsburgh Ballet Theater on Liberty Avenue. Two blocks away from the theater there's a place called the Shamrock Hotel. It's what we call a flea bag. We figured your man being a stalker would hole up in a place like that. Guess what? We were right.”

When the four police officers arrived at headquarters they waited while Lester Cummings was taken to an interrogation room. Sergeant Harris took time to make sure everything was in order then he, Wallace and Stiles entered the room.

Cummings looked up. “Oh, the cop from Nautilus Beach.”

“Hello, is is Lou or Lester?” asked Wallace.

“You know damn well that right now it's Lester.

“Alright Lester, I'll start by telling you that I'm not going to bullshit you. I see that you've been read your rights, so I'll say right now that you don't have to talk to me without a lawyer. Now, are we going to talk or are you going back to the holding cell until the court grants extradition?.” asked Wallace.

“I'll talk within reason”, Cummings replied.

“Good, let's start by you telling me what you know about Natasha Dubcek.”

“Natasha my ass. Her names Helen Dubcek. I met her when we both danced in Chicago.”

“Other than a professional relationship were you two romantically involved?”

“If you call living together for a year romantically involved, then yeah.”

“I take it that at sometime you two parted ways.”

“I wanted a wife and kids. She wanted to be a ballerina.”

“So you separated, but we have on record that you assaulted her and committed battery. She even had you arrested.”

“She was just angry at the time. She loved me then just as she loves me now.”

“If you say so. Now, I'll get right to the point Lester. We have you on a recorded tape entering the dressing room of Gabriela Bunsdorff. We have the exact time and date that you went into the room and when you left the room Wallace lied. We also have your fingerprints on the pill vial that you took out of Gabriela's pocket book. You were aware of Gabriela's heart condition. It was no secret. What you didn't know or forgot was the fact the Gabriela had a phobia about germs and wiped the vial clean each time she used it. As a result your left your fingerprints just like your calling card. So, what I'm saying Lester is this, I've got you by the balls. Right now, you're under arrest for the murder of Gabriela Bunsdorff. Now that you've been charged, I'll remind you of your rights again. Do you still want to talk with me?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, what I want to know is why kill Gabriela? She was no threat to you or Natasha.”

“That's easy. With Gabriela out of the way and Helen being the understudy she would take over the part of ballerina. The way I saw it was that Helen would fail in that role, realize that she wasn't good enough and quit dancing. After doing that she'd come back to me.”

“I see. Unfortunately for you, she has talent. You were just too blind to see it.”

“O.K. Lester. The State of New Jersey will be filing papers for you extradition. That might take a day or two, unless you refuse. That's up to you,” said Wallace.

Wallace and Stiles got out of the taxi cab in front of the Pittsburgh Ballet. He showed his badge and talked his way into the theater then walked backstage, Stiles followed. The sounds of music played by the orchestra seemed loud to him, but he thought it was because of the theater's acoustics. He made his way to the dressing rooms and found the door with a star on it. He knocked gently three times. Margaret Helms opened the door just wide enough so she could see who was there. When she did she said, “Oh, Mister Wallace.”

“Robert? Is it Robert? Show him in Margaret,” said Natasha.

Wallace entered the room and when he did Natasha got up from the dressing table. “Robert, what a wonderful surprise.

When did you get here?”

“Hello Natasha or should I call you Helen?”

Natasha stood silent for a moment then said,” So, now you know. What else did you find out about me?”

“Where would you like me to start? How about I begin with you and Lester Cummings.”

“That was a long time ago Robert.”

“Him stalking you in Nautilus Beach was just recently.

You could have told me about him then.”

“It was my problem and I didn't want to involve you.”

“Well, I solved your problem. I just arrested him for killing Gabriela.”

“He killed Gabriela? Why?”

“So you would move up in the ballet. He was hoping that you would fail, quit dancing and go back to him.”

“Really, well congratulations on solving your case.”

“ No need to congratulate me. Actually, I feel sorry for the poor bastard.”

“Why?”

“Because he is so in love with you he was willing to kill in order for both of you to be together.”

“Unfortunately, I didn't love him.”

“I'm beginning to think that you don't love anyone. We made love, but now that I think about it you never said that you love me. You actually love your career.”

Wallace turned his head as the dressing room door opened and Viktor Baranovsky entered. ""Ah, Officer Wallace. Good to see you again. I believe congratulations are in order. Your detective friend outside in the hallway told me that you made an arrest in Gabriela's murder.”

“Yes, we did.”

“And I assume that since you are here in Pittsburgh you stopped in to see Natasha. How nice. Did she tell you the news?,” asked Viktor.

“News? What news?.” asked Wallace.

“Natasha has agreed to become my wife,” Viktor answered.

Wallace managed to slow his beating heart caused by the shock of the announcement. When his emotions were under control he looked at Natasha and said, “No. No she didn't. Congratulations I hope you two will be very happy.”

“Thank you. Now I'm afraid that I must get back to the rehearsal. Natasha Darling your number will be in about ten minutes, don't be late dear,” said Viktor.

When Baranovsky left the room Wallace looked at Natasha and said, “Well, well, you're just full of surprises, aren't you?”

“Not really. I can see that you're upset. If you thought that there was more to our relationship then there actually was, I'm sorry. I'll admit that I needed you. I was afraid of Lester. I knew that you would protect me if he got worse. What you could offer me was life in a small town, a condominium or a house with a white picket fence. Then, maybe one or two kids. That's not what I want out of life Robert. I want to be a first class ballerina. I'm on the way to becoming that. At the same time marriage to Viktor gives me forty per cent of the Barnaovsky Ballet Company. Even you will have to admit that my career at age twenty has blossomed.”

“Yeah, you've done pretty good for yourself. It seems like just yesterday that you were just a dancer, an understudy, then Gabriela danced the death dance and the rest is history. Take care kid,” said Wallace as he turned and left the room.

*************

 

“Are you listening to me,” asked Mary Wallace.

“Huh? What? What did you say?”

“I asked you what you were thinking about. You’ve been sitting there staring at nothing in particular with your mouth open and drooling. And don't tell me that you've been thinking about an old case you worked. You had a twinkle in your eyes a couple of times. I've been watching you.”

“What would you say if I told you that I was thinking of you, how we met and just how much I love you?,” asked Robert.

“I'd say that you're full of baloney. But even if you are you gave a nice answer. Now, it's time for your blood test which finger do you want me to take the sample from, said Mary.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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